Monochrome: The 27th Hunger Games
by CelticGames4
Summary: A collaboration story. "I shall create a new world for myself." I read those words and the resolution to make my mark upon the world the best way I knew how solidified within me. I was going to draw the entire country into a spectacle that was going to go down in the books as legendary. It would be stark, beautiful, fragile, and a terror, and most of all, it would be mine."
1. Prologue: Magnum Opus

_**Prologue: Magnum Opus**_

"Ari? You home?"

I was suddenly snapped out of my reverie by the voice of my coworker,emanating from a small speaker next to me. When I'm playing piano, it's impossible to hear the doorbell, so it was a necessary installation. However...it never ceased to agitate me.

I stalked through the kitchen and dining room to get the door. My wall clock read 7:19 pm. Conrad was _supposed_ to arrive at 6:30. I reached the entryway and opened the door. I wanted this whole thing done and over with as fast as possible.

"Ari!" Conrad's face stretched in a smile, clearly not reading my expression. "You were just playing piano, like always. I should've guessed."

"I played through nearly all of Chopin's Opus 28." I replied shortly. "You're late." He stepped inside and took his coat off, hanging it off of the bannister of the stairs instead of the coat rack next to the door.

"Those are Chopin's famous preludes, right?" he kicked his shoes off into the corner. "I like the one that starts off with this crazy flurry, and the sheet music looks gross...isn't that like the sixth one?" I started walking towards my living room, Conrad in tow.

"It's number eight, you're thinking of." I kept my tone neutral. I should have been glad he even knew nything about any piano literature. Although it was only because we had studied under the same instructor as kids through high school, I could be certain.

"Oh right. Sorry, it's been awhile." he laughed it off with such ease I found myself getting a headache. While he seated himself on my sofa, I searched for a bottle of painkillers. "Which one's your favorite out of the preludes?"

I grasped the bottle from behind my allergy medication. "Number 20. In C minor." He made a choking noise.

"Ariettey, are you serious? Your fingers can glide across the keys like it's nothing at hyper speed with so much technicality...and you pick that one?" I poured the both of us glasses of water.

"Simplicity is often just as powerful, if not more so, as more technically difficult pieces." I paused to swallow a couple pills and chase them with water. "I could say the same for my Arena, in some regards." He reached for his glass on the counter with long arms.

"Funny, I was just about to ask." he smirked and brushed his dusky purple hair out of his face. He naturally had a mellow shade of ginger hair, but for some reason he felt the urge to dye it. It probably had something to do with fitting in with other Capitolites, especially since he had became Head Interviewer. "Shall we go over the questions for tomorrow night?" I sat down across from him with a sigh.

"Alright. Fire away." I felt a kind of nervous tension I hadn't felt in awhile. Even though I had no reason to be nervous in front of Conrad. He fixed his bright blue gaze on me intently and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Why," he smirked, already knowing the answer but asking so I could put my thoughts together, "did you try to become Head Gamemaker?" Up until three years ago, I had been flying through my undergraduate studies in piano performance. However, in the aftermath of the execution of Edward O'Callaghan, the Games had been...pitiful. Not the tributes, of course, but the Arenas, and the creativity. There was no life, and the people of the Capitol and Districts were starting to talk. It wasn't acceptable; there would be a rebellion on President Augustus's hands sooner rather than later.

Did I like the Games? Not particularly. But if they ceased to become the show that they were, there would be larger problems that I was in no position to fix.

I distinctly remembered telling Conrad in a phone call about three years ago, "Even _I_ could do better."

He agreed with me. But furthermore, he had said, "Then do it."

So I did.

I dropped out of my Piano Performance major at the Maria S. Gloucester Institute of the Fine Arts and transferred to Conrad's Gamemaker polytechnical school. I had always kept my grades stellar in case I made a career choice like this.

I had been surprised how spur of the moment I had made the choice, but I couldn't say it was one I regretted. At least, not yet, anyway. I was well aware of how Gamemakers had been ending up recently and I aimed to break that trend.

"I'm sick of seeing these bland, unoriginal Games of the past few years. I'm here to make my mark, and prove that anyone can do this." I responded calmly.

"I see, that's a ballsy reason." he smirked, "But I have faith you'll back up your bold assertions."

He runs through a couple more questions with me, knowing that the Interview will only last about 9 minutes at most, and I run through them with surprising ease. They're silly things, questions about me and the kind of Gamemaker I am.

"Alright, last one. Any hints about your Arena, Voleur?" I took a deep breath, trying to come up with something just cryptic enough…

"Consider it a tribute to the performing arts." I tried for a mysterious smile and Conrad gave me a thumbs up.

"That was surprisingly painless, Ari. Good job. They'll be crazy for you tomorrow." he relaxed into my sofa. Surprisingly, I found myself in a good mood. The questions had been painless, and Conrad hadn't said anything _terribly_ offensive. My headache was even gone. "I just hope I won't goof it up, y'know?"

"Tch, Conrad, if anyone's going to goof it up, I certainly will." I scoffed. "You've been doing this for how long now?"

"Three years." he smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You know, they've been pushing me to dye my hair some crazy color, and I'm really not feeling it…."

"Dark purple isn't crazy enough for them? Well, blue _is_ a good color for you," I teased. His face scrunched up in indignation. "Highlights wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Or you could just dye your ponytail/bun thing." 

"Ari, how _could_ you? I thought you would understand my plight!" he groaned but his eyes were light.

"I mean, _they're_ making _me_ get green highlights dyed into my hair for whatever reason. I thought my dirty blonde mane was fine the way it was, but, alas…" I sighed. "So you should suffer with me."

"Alright, I get it, we're both going to suffer." he put his hands up in defeat. I felt a weight on my chest. Just the thought of being in the spotlight was practically suffocating. "You...gonna be okay Ari?"

"Yeah." I wanted to give a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. Instead I started gushing. "I just...I hate doing things in public. It's fine with you and all, but on a stage, with all the lights, and the crowd, it just-" A nauseating wave of anxiety crashed on my mind.

"Ari." he cut me off gently. "You'll be fine. Don't worry." I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye for some kind of reassurance. Somehow he was always around to keep me steady when I was feeling emotionally off-balanced. Even if we didn't have the time to speak nearly as much as we used to, it was almost as if we had spent no time at all apart.

"Alright." I trembled a little, feeling sick all of a sudden.

"Why don't you wind down a little with some piano?" His confident Interviewer smile almost made me want to punch him in the face, but I knew he was just trying to ease my nerves. "What have you been working on lately?"

"Well-I-I just finished working on this...Polonaise-Fantasie, Opus 61 by Chopin…" I mumbled. I hadn't played it for anyone yet. I worked this piece for the past four months in between all my coursework for school, and I had only just become happy with it.

"'I'll be right here. Just let yourself go, it's not like you haven't played for me before."

I was instantly transported back to 9th grade.

 _I had just started studying with a my new teacher, Nikita Kissinger, and they insisted I perform a piece at their winter recital. I was nervous, armed with nothing but Schumann's Scenes from Childhood, Opus 15. It was a set of beautiful little sketches of a child's imagination, suitable for the situation, but when I rounded the corner into the recital hall for the dress rehearsal, I was stricken._

" _...Mussorsky's Preludes? You can't be serious," I whispered to myself._

 _On stage at the piano was a striking young boy cheerfully playing the first prelude with its infectious playfulness and cheer. He made the piano sing. The piece he was playing was not lyrical in any way, but his control over the sound the instrument produced was incredible._

 _I was awestruck. I could only hope that I would rival him sooner or later. He looked a year or two older than me._

" _Well, Ariettey? Why don't you go up and kick Conrad off the piano, he's been hogging it for a half hour." Mr. Kissinger smirked down at me, his short hair dark streaked with white today. He kind of looked like a skunk._

 _He shoved me down the aisle and I snapped out of my shock. As soon as my heels clacked off the stage steps, the boy stopped playing. He turned and swung off the bench with the greatest ease, standing before me with his hand out in one fluid motion._

" _Hey, I'm Conrad. You're the newbie they keep talking about. Voleur right?" he had a winning smile that I simultaneously felt welcomed and irritated beyond belief by._

" _Y-yes." My voice was much smaller than I meant for it to be, but I tried to make up for it with a strong handshake. "But...my first name is…."_

" _Arietty, yeah, yeah, I know." his eyes sparkled from the stage lights. "Tell you what: I won't call you Voleur without your okay again...if you show me what you've got. The piano's all yours."_

I sat down at the piano, tempted to play Scenes from Childhood, but realized that I had long forgotten how to play the piece from memory.

Instead I started the sweeping rubato glide up the piano that the Polonaise-Fantasie began with. I had reached the transitionary nocturne when I glanced back at Conrad.

"Who's a cute cat? You're a cute cat!" he whispered to the calico ball of fluff traitorously butting its head against his hands.

"Conrad." I stopped playing. " I don't have a cat." He froze. "...the neighbor does. I put a cat door on, if you noticed. She likes to visit." He showed palpable relief, but he wasn't off the hook yet.

"Were you even listening?" I sighed. "I've worked really hard on this...I thought you might at least _grasp_ what I'm doing here."

"I was listening!" he cried defensively. "I just...this cat is so friendly and nice! I'm not used to cats liking me. What's her name?"

I shrugged. "I think her owner calls her Champagne after the tribute from the first Games, but I called her Emilia when I first found her thinking she was a stray."

"Why Emilia?" 

"I dunno." I shrugged again. "She just looks like an Emilia. Wouldn't you say?" Conrad took another look at those innocent, emerald eyes and sighed.

"Sure, why not?" we both snickered, but Conrad continued. "But really, Ari, you could use some rest. Get to bed early, alright?" I frowned.

"Sure….but you better be back because you are sitting through that Polonaise-Fantasie if I have to nail your arms and legs to a chair." He gave the cat a scratch on the top of her head and waltzed to the door.

"Alright, Ari. Whatever you say. Goodnight."

" _Alright, Ari, that was a pretty great rendition of Scenes from Childhood. I mean, there's a few comments I could make but I'd say you hold up to your reputation."_

" _You said you wouldn't call me Voleur, but I assumed you meant you would call me Arietty...because that's my name?" I responded drily, unaffected by his remarks._

" _Never assume, Ari. That was the biggest mistake of your whole performance."_

"Goodnight, Conrad."

I shut the door on his smirking face and spun back to the kitchen. Emilia trotted past me with barely a glance and out the cat door. A traitor indeed. How dare she like Conrad more than me! I feed her more than her _owner_ does!

I sighed and picked up my cell phone, dialing a dear friend. I had promised Robin I would call him after Conrad came by. Though it was getting late, I was certain he would still be awake.

"Hello-"

"Ariettey, you just-guess what happened?!" His excited voice bubbled from the speaker. "Claudia agreed to meet me after your Interview tomorrow night! That's huge progress! She's actually willing to _speak_ with me!"

"That's great, Robin!" I smiled. The guy had been fawning over Claudia Rienne for what felt like forever. It made sense for her to finally notice, after nearly a year of him gushing lovesick garbage at me over the phone.

"Right, so, how did Horowitz coming by go?" Robin's attention snapped back to me. I was surprised, it usually took longer for Robin to remember things after receiving big news like that.

"Um...pretty good. I actually had a good time. We went through the questions, they went pretty well, I played piano for him-"

"Ohhh? You played piano for him? That's a rare occurrence, you _hate_ playing for people! Something between you two you'd like to tell me about?" Robin acted like he was getting ahold of something juicy and gossip-worthy and I could not wait to burst his bubble.

"We studied under the same teacher in high school and used to be friends. That's it, really."

"There's _gotta_ be more to the story," he scoffed.

"I'd be happy to give you the full story but it's late, and I need sleep for tomorrow. I'll call you tomorrow night, and you can tell me how things go with Claudia."

"Alright! Goodnight, hon!"

"'Night, Rob."

I hung up and shuffled off to my bed. After going over last minute Arena preparations, the Interview rundown, and being drained from simply talking to Robin, it had been a long day. But I was ready.

I had worked endless hours on the Arena, creating something diverse and classy, and surely, my Games would leave a mark. I typically was not the kind of person to assert something with that level of confidence that wasn't an indisputable fact, but my intuition never lied. This Arena was going to be incredible.

No matter what, I was going to retire after this one. I had the goal of proving myself, and granted the Arena was enough of a success, I could return to my piano studies as early as next year.

I curled up in a nest of blankets and sheets, waiting for the darkness to take hold of my consciousness.

The nervous energy I got from thinking about the Arena and days to come dissipated under exhaustion and I drifted off.

 **Hi everyone! Celtic here!**

 _ **Hello! :D Legend here!**_

 **And welcome to my twisted mind!**

 _ **Welcome to my-hey that's my thing to say! Eh, whatevs. We're both authors with overactive imaginations.**_

 **So, this is a collab we're doing together, and it's unfortunately not an SYOT.**

 _ **Buuuut even though it's not an SYOT, we promise to make these guys worth your time. If you don't feel somewhat invested by the end, well…**_ **Then we suck XD** _ **Yeah that.**_

 _ **Oh! And both of us really like doing the whole art thing. Want to know how we envision these characters? Hop on over to Celtic's Tumblr, seaweed-hands-from-hell! I've already drawn a ton, and I'll be posting frequently (fingers crossed)!**_

 **Anyways, hope you enjoyed the prologue! Let us know what you think and how you liked the characters!**


	2. D1&3 Reapings: Engrave Thy Name

**_District 1 and 3 Reapings: Engrave Thy Name_**

-Cerulean Holst, 18, D1-

I was up early, but too lazy to get out of bed. Being from District 1, the reapings start at 8, which seriously cuts into our beauty sleep! But I couldn't sleep. I was far too excited and nervous for that.

It was reaping day! But it wasn't just _any_ reaping day. It was _my_ reaping day!

I pulled blankets around myself, turning on the television. It was only 5:30 in the morning, but I knew there was no way I'd be able to sleep some more. I was at the Academy training with all my might last night, and crashed at 6:30 after eating, like, the whole kitchen for dinner. I watched the screen, as Conrad and Robin discussed the rerun of the 20th Games, which just ended (damn, I missed it!).

I smiled with pride, though, at the Victor, our District's very own Dutch Krietzer! I wondered how _he_ felt at this time seven years ago. He was probably sleeping in his house in the Victor's Village. The first second-generation Victor, he will always live in luxury. I couldn't believe his victory happened _seven_ years ago! It felt like it was just yesterday!

That very next year, though, when I was 12, I knew it was my destiny to volunteer. Well, Mom knew. And in hindsight, she was right. At the age of 12, not taking any tesserae, mind you, I was reaped.

That's a big deal around here! You got to have a second of spotlight before the volunteer, strong and mighty, took your place. You even got to see them up close! And meet up with them after the reaping and talk to them and tell them good luck and shake their hand! They could be the next Victor!

When I was reaped for the 21st Games, Dutch's brother Osmium volunteered to take my place. Some other guy was there to fight him, but after a battle Os made it up to the stage.

I watched it happen again on the television in front of my eyes.

"Cerulean Holst!" Announced the escort on the screen. I watched as 12-year-old me appeared in the section, walking out. I looked pretty stunned. It's amazing how much I've changed since then. The 12-year-old's blond hair was messy, sticking up everywhere. His blue eyes looked deflated and tired. He looked exhausted, like he hadn't smiled in a million years.

It really felt like a million years. It felt like a million years since my family's financial state took a tumble and we had to move away from everything I ever knew. It seemed like a million years since I had laughed and had friends. As soon as we moved, I was picked on. I was lanky and weak. They took advantage of me. But then I was reaped.

Everything turned around. Suddenly, I was desirable. I got to be _volunteered_ for! I got to talk to Os and I got moments on the TV, for all to see! I found my friends that way, I found my niche, people were bouncing off the walls asking me questions and being interested in me. I found a new home. Now I'm very happy with everything about my life, from my friends Hap and Vent to my family to my training!

This day was going to be the accumulation of every single great day of my life, all rolled up into one! It was going to be the best day ever! And then I was going to win the Games and that day would become the _new_ best day ever! And then every day after that would be great too.

I knew that somewhere in the District, there was a girl that was probably still fast asleep, dreaming fondly about her big moment in the Games. This day was just as much hers as it is mine, I suppose. I hoped that nobody would challenge me, though. Luckily for me, a fight hadn't happened for the spot since all the way back six years prior.

I relaxed, watching the television as the Five boy, a 13-year-old, was dragged to the stage, screaming and trying to fight with the Peacekeepers. Poor, small, starving little rat. Outer District tributes were most always undesirables. The little ones, I knew, would kill themselves off, eventually. Sure, I was aware that sometimes there could come a threat, but honestly I wasn't worried.

Though that boy from 5, Glitch, was so small and helpless, the kid was smart. But, in most all cases, brains weren't as important as brawn, as shown later when the kid was tortured to death. Sure, he made it far, but at what cost? It certainly would've been much easier if he'd just died at the Cornucopia on the first day.

Os didn't win the 21st Games. He was pegged to win by everyone, considering his impressive training scores, brains, and the fact that he descended from Platinum fucking Krietzer, maybe, and has spent his whole life surrounded by Victors. It would've been amazing, two siblings winning the Games in consecutive years. It would've been amazing if Os had won after I had been able to shake his hand and talk to him. But I knew that fate could be cruel and unusual sometimes, for whatever reason. My philosophy was that you just had to keep smiling and keep fighting.

I stayed curled up, my stomach growling. I knew I should get up and eat and piss (I have to pee soooooo bad!), but I just felt too lazy. Besides, I didn't want to disturb Mom and Dad. Mom had a long day working, she came home complaining of her aching body. Dad was barely pleasant in the daytime, let alone if you woke him up at 5:40 in the morning. And if I woke up Chartreuse, my brother, he'd never go back to sleep. I swore the guy was just as excited for this day as I am.

Chartreuse had been hoping he'd be reaped ever since he was 12. By this time, he was 14, and has still had no luck. He asked Mom and Dad if he could take tesserae this year, just so his name could be in the bowl more times. They didn't allow him, though. Mom said it would make us too much like poor people. He really wanted to be reaped for me so that I could volunteer for him. It was very unlikely, but if a 12-year-old with one slip in there could be reaped his first year, maybe that kind of luck ran in the family.

Anyways, my poor bladder would just have to wait. I didn't wanna get out of bed yet. I watched the District 7 reaping, where the Victor, Marlowe Glaiser, was reaped. An ally of Os's, she was bothered when he died, and used that as motivation to win. She was one of the strongest Victors in all of Panem's history. She was romantically involved with Dutch, to top it all off. Talk about a plot twist.

While the chariots were replaying, I finally surrendered and rolled over out of bed. I snuck through the halls in the dark, accustomed to the familiar house as I made my way to the bathroom as quietly as possible. I peed as quietly as I possibly could, and got a glass of water before going back to bed and curling up again in the covers. By the time I got back, the reruns of interviews had already started. Osmium was giving the cameras the most endearing smile I've ever seen.

He was truly even cuter up close. His eyes even more blue, his glasses even more endearing, his cheeks even rosier, his smile even _more_ charming.

I pulled my blanket up to my face, feeling the soft fuzz and rubbing it against my cheek softly as Pleasure Easton took the stage on the TV. I watched intently, taking a special note of how each tribute approached their interview. Marcella Addington from 2 was cute but deadly. Pomponius was a hot-shot and also a giant ham. He ended up howling like a wolf, much like his friends did for him when he was reaped. I felt my eyes closing before they announce Glitch McKinley, and opened them again to watch the trainwreck unfold. I blinked at the screen, watching the 13-year-old act almost drunk up there, spilling all of the horrible secrets about his past: his abusive parents and uncle, being assaulted, his bully cousins. _That's one interview strategy to avoid, for sure_ , I observed.

I watched as the interviews became the Games. The part that I'd trained the hardest for. Interviews and chariots were my strong suits. I had a stage presence planned and perfected, and nothing would make me crack. I was a pretty lanky kid, but I had been training tirelessly so that I knew how to use weapons. I was totally ready for this. I could feel it in my veins.

I watched the Games happen on the screen, the snowy backdrop for the blood and death. I hid under my blanket for the really gruesome parts, like when the boy from 4 had his eye gouged out by mutts or when they ran into the frost-bitten boy from Nine, or when Glitch from 5 was tortured to death by the boy from 3. Marlowe Glaiser from 7 won after a snow monster picked up the boy from 2 and ate him. It was gruesome to watch, but I had watched it happen many times before so this time I barely flinched.

I watched through the replay of the much more boring 22nd Games, checking the time impatiently. I just wanted to get out of bed already and get some breakfast. My stomach was growling! The 22nd Games were won by the boy from District 3, Chrome Vladamire. He didn't live much longer, though, after getting killed off by some Peacekeepers. I was pretty sure that they cut out stuff from his Games when they replayed it, so that the people watching would think of him for as little time as possible. He wasn't the one that was pegged to win. His interview wasn't great, neither was his training score. He was just good at camouflaging, and the Career pack self-destructed, leading him to Victory by dumb luck.

By the end of his Games, my stomach started to ache from being empty, so I surrendered and rolled over out of bed. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders to keep me warm while I walked, and went out to the kitchen. By now it was about 7.

When I walked past Char's room, I saw him lying on his stomach, sketching in his notebook. When he heard my footsteps, he quickly got out of bed to follow me.

"Cerulean!" he exclaimed, happily skipping past me to the kitchen.

"Sh," I whispered quickly, hoping his outburst didn't wake our parents. "Dad won't be happy if you wake him, and neither will Mom."

"Oh, right," he said, whispering this time, "Sorry."

"How about some cinnamon toast for breakfast?" I asked him, and he nodded cheerfully. He sat at the table and watched as I put bread in the toaster and got some butter from the fridge. I got some cinnamon out of the cabinet just as the toast popped. I buttered the toast and sprinkled some cinnamon on it, giving two pieces to him and keeping two for myself.

"Maybe some scrambled eggs?" Char asked hopefully.

"Sure." I put some of the cinnamon toast in my mouth, enjoying the sweet and savory combination of flavors as I put a pan on the stove. I turned on the heat and went to grab some eggs from the fridge. Char liked his eggs overcooked, brown, and rubbery, and I liked mine runnier and with plenty of salt and pepper. I put some butter on the pan as it heated up, and cracked some eggs.

Ever since Mom started working, I was designated as the cook. It was a big argument, Dad said that cooking was Mom's job as the woman, Mom retorted that I would need to learn how to cook on my own for when I moved out and lived in the Victor's Village. Mom eventually won the argument.

I liked to cook, even if it was a feminine thing or a "woman's job." I liked to make my own food, because I knew how I liked it. It's better when you make food that you like how you like it. A feeling of satisfaction.

I put Char's eggs in a bowl and handed them to him before I got some for myself and cracked them into the pan, taking another big bite of cinnamon toast. I remember fondly when my friends had challenged me to swallow a whole spoon of cinnamon, and I had tried and failed. It was disgusting and horrible, but then Vent said he'd try it and it was actually hilarious. Hap didn't try it, saying we were stupid for doing so, but that was one of the few times she actually smiled.

I scrambled my eggs and put them in a bowl, turning off the heat and sitting cheerfully next to Char. He had the same blond hair I do, and bright green eyes. Hence why I was named after a shade of blue, and him a shade of green.

He smiled up at me the whole time we ate, and I could tell he was teeming with excitement for me. Ah, my little brother had always watched out for me with my best interests at heart, and I loved him so much for that. I finished my breakfast and got up, ruffling my brother's hair. I went back to my bedroom, stripping the blanket off my shoulders to get dressed in my nicest clothes, brush my teeth, and comb my hair. Then, I put my shoes on and went back out to the kitchen, where Char was doing the dishes.

"I want to go see Hap and Vent before the reaping. Tell Mom and Dad I'll see them after I volunteer."

"Alright! You can't go without a good luck hug though!" he insisted, quickly drying his hands on a towel and running over to give me a big hug.

I hugged back, smiling. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye," he smiled at me. I started out the door and headed toward Vent's house.

When I got there, Vent was sitting on the steps of his porch, eating a green freezie pop as the summer morning was beginning to heat up.

"Holst!" he called, waving to me. I had tried so hard to give my friends one-syllable nicknames, so they had done the same for me. Since Cer isn't much of a nickname, nor is U or Le or An, they'd just started calling me by my one-syllable last name instead.

"Hey Vent!" His real first name was Adventure, and it really did fit him. He flipped the light brown bangs out of his brown eyes and gave me a smile. "Today's your big day!"

"I know," I laughed, sitting next to him.

"Want an ice pop?"

"Sure. Better give me a pink one, though. Can't be volunteering with blue lips and tongue."

"Okay!" His eyes lit up with realization when he noticed the figure walking towards us, in a blouse and dress pants, her black hair tied up as always and an indifferent look on her face. "Hap's coming! I should get her usual purple!" He smiled and strutted into the house. The girl approached, and put up her hand in recognition when I called, "Hi Hap!"

"Morning Holst," she said, her expression still indifferent as she sat on the steps in her usual spot. "Lemme guess, Vent went off to get freezie pops?"

"Of course!"

"If you get it on your pants I'm going to laugh my ass off."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." I do have to be careful, though.

Vent came back holding three ice pops. He handed me a pink one and Hap a purple, before cheerfully putting a red one in his mouth.

"You're going to have weird dark lips and tongue, y'know?" Hap raised an eyebrow.

"Sucks to that. I'm not volunteering." His lips went up in a grin.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the coldness of the ice pop, nice and solid and crunchy: just how I liked it. Hap always waited for hers to be half-melted to drink the liquid, which I could never understand. That kind of defeated the whole purpose of ice pops, in my opinion. But, to each his own.

The three of us sat and enjoyed our pre-reaping treat silently. There was not much to say. I just enjoyed being in their presence, really. That was all that mattered. Hap ate her ice pop and even _she_ looked satisfied. Amazing.

After a while of just being with them, Vent's sister Genuine went out the door. She was 13, and less carefree than Vent but still far more carefree than most people.

"The reaping starts in an hour, we should be making our way to the Square," she said matter-of-factly.

"Alright, alright," sighed Vent, collecting our wrappers and going inside to throw them away.

"Are you excited for your second reaping Gen?" I asked, to start conversation.

"Sure, I guess," the girl shrugged. "I mean, the video is boring, but watching the volunteers is fun." She blinked at me, admiration in her eyes.

"Yup. You'll understand when you're in the position, if you're ever there."

"I dunno if I care to go into the Games," she said thoughtfully.

"The Games are for people who are just a little bit crazy and extremely confident," Hap shrugged. "Which describes Holst here perfectly." We all laughed, but she wasn't wrong.

Vent appeared again, theatrically announcing his presence. "Let's go!" he said cheerfully. Hap and I stood up, and together the three of us walked to the reaping.

We were in the less fortunate part of the District, so the walk took about 15 minutes alone, half an hour with Vent, who ran ahead off the path and got distracted by an interesting cloud or by chasing the pebble he had been kicking ahead of him for a long while. Not that it mattered to me. I knew I should have going to have to enjoy this time with my friends, because when I came back I would live in the Victor's Village, which is an even longer walk from our houses than the Square.

It could quite possibly be just like it was all those years ago. I promised I wouldn't lose contact with my best friend at the time, Denz, but I did. I don't want the same to happen to Hap and Vent. Hopefully because we're all 18 and more mature, that means we'll actually keep contact. It was still a worry though.

I got my finger pricked and printed, feeling the eyes of kids on me, a lot of who I didn't know. They must have known me, though. Or at least what I was going to do. I looked around, trying to get a view of the female volunteer. Even though I didn't even know what her name was, I figured it would be easy to tell. She would probably have a lot of people surrounding her, I figured, asking her questions and looking at her like she was a star. I looked around, trying to find someone who fit the criteria, but didn't see anyone.

"I'll see ya later Hap," I said, slapping her on the back affectionately. She prefered that to hugs, and I respected that (except for those times when hugs were just plain necessary, of course!).

"Volunteer pretty," she said, giving me a nod and a rare smile. Then, she walked to the girls section, leaving Vent and I to walk together to the boys' section. We stood by the number 18, with me in the very front. After what seemed like forever, the reaping began. The escort was getting older. Her name was Dasdemonda, and though she had multiple plastic surgeries, she was still showing her age.

"Welcome, District 1!" she beamed when she was met with thunderous applause. Vent next to me screamed, clapping gleefully. "Welcome to the reaping for the 27th Annual Hunger Games!" She reveled in the applause as if it was all for her. "Before we get to the best part, let's watch a video!" she played the video, the same thing every year about how the Dark Days were awful, but the Games have become golden! It was wonderful.

"First, our lucky lady," Dasdemonda said, walking to the girls' bowl. She put her hand in and swished it around for a while, before settling on a name and picking it out. "Muse Harmond!" The girl walked out of the 15 section, smiling like a champion. "Ah, yes. Now, do we have any volunteers?"

I heard a voice call out loud and clear, "I volunteer as tribute!" A girl trotted with confidence up to the stage, smiling brightly as the crowd applauded for her.

"Wonderful, just wonderful! Dear, what is your name?"

"Cadenza Santiago!" she announced. I didn't recall ever seeing this girl before, which was dangerous because that meant I had no idea how she trained and how lethal she really was.

Dasdemonda walked to the boys' bowl after that and selected a man. Cadenza was smiling brightly and surveying the crowd for friends and family. She had the looks thing going, and seemingly the personality to match. I was snapped out of my thoughts by Dasdemonda calling out, "Gladness Moffett!" The boy walked out of the 16 section, smiling. "Do we have any volunteers?" she asked.

 _Now or never, Cerulean,_ I thought. I put up my hand. "I volunteer!" I call out. As soon as I did it, something connected and I realized that I _did_ know Cadenza Santiago. I shook it off, keeping a confident smile on as I walked up to the stage, Vent yelling and whooping at the top of his lungs. A heavy, guilty feeling was forming in my chest as I hoped that she wouldn't recognize me.

"Very good! Now shake hands you two!" Dasdemonda said, beaming at us. Denz put out her hand, and I shook it.

The look of realization dawned in her eyes when they locked confidently with mine.

Before I could say anything else to my childhood best friend, Dasdemonda guided us back to the Justice Building.

I figured that I'd have plenty of time to catch up with Denz before the Games had begun, after all.

~.~.

-Oberyn Thael, 16, D3-

 _Anesthesiology, the study of applying the individual cocktail of substances to unique flora and fauna inhabiting each person to induce an artificial coma in the person for medical procedural purposes. The variation is astounding between people, and there is an inherent danger in that there is always a possibility a person cannot be brought out-_

I paused in my reading to take a sip of coffee and almost spit it out immediately.

"Ice-fucking- cold," I hissed, slamming the mug onto its coaster as hard as I could without shattering either the coaster or the mug.

I glanced at my wristwatch and expelled a frustrated sigh. 9 am. I had been up for two hours and made only minimal progress on the book my mother had lent me. She said I should consider anesthesiology since I had a knack for details and being thorough. I wanted to politely tell her I couldn't care less and had far higher career goals than hers, but I didn't want her on my bad side. I would never be on the bad side of anyone I lived under the same roof with. It's a rule of thumb.

Since it was reaping day, I figured I had better go out and about my business before noon. Not that I had too much to attend to, but I preferred to get an early start.

I briskly trotted down the steps to the kitchen.

"You're up early, hon." I stalked past my mother, who cheerfully was at making breakfast. The level of enthusiasm she displayed for the most mundane of tasks made me physically ill.

"I'm always up early, Mother," I replied mildly, sitting down at the table.

"I always feel so old when you call me that." she sighed, "Couldn't you call me Mom?" I chose not to respond. She dumped a stack of pancakes onto my plate. "In any case, you need to eat. It's Reaping Day!"

I had no intentions of letting the special air surrounding Reaping Day affect me. There was no reason to "live a little more" on Reaping Day, as if it would be the last day with your friends and family. Statistically, you were far more likely to be struck by lightning, or mauled by a bear than you were to be reaped for the Games. That is to say, if you were me. I can't say anything for anyone with more than four slips in.

"Right." I coolly agreed. We had pancakes every other Saturday, but it wasn't a point to pick a fight over. _Pick your battles, Oberyn._ My father's advice rang in my head, echoing my thoughts and souring my mood.

"Where is Father?" I inquired. He should be at the house on Reaping Day. Then again, his attachment to the rest of his family was tenuous at best. He probably volunteered to work so that other parents could see their children. It looked altruistic, but he most certainly was doing it for the holiday pay, make no mistake of it. I knew my father.

He would have had to work at some point today anyway, so he may as well maximize profits. He was a doctor. It wasn't like people were going to stop hurting themselves, or falling ill because it was a holiday.

"At the hospital. He'll see us after the Reaping. He even said he would bring home a turkey for us to prepare for dinner tomorrow as an apology for working this morning!" I had deduced correctly, to my complete lack of surprise. I finished my pancakes and grabbed my coat. "Are you going to visit him before the Reaping?" She almost sounded hopeful.

"No. I'm going to the plaza early." She should certainly know better. I was out the door before she could try to convince me to visit that cesspool of plague and death my father calls his workplace.

Ever since my first Reaping, I had made it a point to go early. It was amusing to see the reactions and expressions of all the people bumbling around. The palpable tension was laughable. You threaten to kill two children via lottery and the entire populace is on edge. It's ridiculous, but almost comical to watch. Twelve-year-olds melt down completely, kids with a single slip among several hundred, upwards of a thousand or two. With the sheep-like mentality of my District, and the others as well, if I had to guess, the strategy was effective at striking fear in the hearts of most. Even if it was just paranoia.

I noticed it was going to rain soon, so I cut down a street through the slums of town. Unfortunately I felt a weight on my leg after moments of walking. I had hoped I could get by with no repercussions. So much for outpacing the rain.

"Please, sir...could you spare a dollar or two? Anything...my sister's really sick…" A pitifully filthy and weak boy huddled next to an even more emaciated girl. Normally I would accuse the beggars of acting to get some extra money, but it was clear these two weren't acting.

Of course they had chosen to beg money from _me._

"Well…" I paused, thinking of the best way to handle the situation.

"Help…" the girl coughed.

I opened my wallet. I had thirty dollars on hand, one twenty and one ten. I took out the ten and held it out to the boy.

"Are you...serious?" The boy's voice was faded from shock and his eyes were huge. "Really, sir…?"

"This alone could buy you a day's worth of solid meals, three days if you really rationed it," I explained softly, "For both of you, actually. What are your names?"

"I-I'm Gio, and my sister's name is Abri…" he swallowed. I noticed the sibling's skin tone was darker than I originally evaluated. They were filthy, but not _that_ disgusting.

"How old are you both?"

"I'm eight...and Abri is five." I smiled and handed the ten dollar bill to Gio.

"Take this to the Emlinton Hospital. They'll help your sister, give you a warm meal or two, and give you a place to stay for a short while." The smiles on both their faces grew immensely. "After all, you don't have to worry about the Games for awhile. Happy Reaping Day."

"Thank you, sir! Um…" They stood up, Gio supporting Abri.

"It's Oberyn." I supplied.

"Thank you so much!" they chorused and hurried off. Well, as fast as they could manage with Abri's arm over Gio's neck.

What neither of them knew was that the hospital would take their money and do nothing for them. Sure, they would make a big show of trying to figure out what was wrong with the girl, but unless a doctor was feeling particularly compassionate, they would get one warm meal if they were lucky and that would be all. They would either insist nothing is wrong with his sister, though she was clearly quite ill, or give them fake medication. All the better. Best of all, they wouldn't trace their misfortune back to me.

Abri appeared to have hurt her right foot in some way. She must have gotten an infection, and it was whittling her away. She wouldn't live much longer, without help, and neither would her brother. Their health seemed abysmal enough that they wouldn't recover before winter, and would probably freeze to death.

 _Good riddance. I despise street rats._

I reached the table to be fingerprinted quickly, as there was no line. It was barely 10:30 AM after all. After running through the laboriously inefficient pricking and fingerprinting process, I walked over to the temporary bleachers' 15 section and chose a covered area to sit. It was just starting to drizzle.

There weren't many cannon-fodder low-lifes around to analyze yet, so I turned my attention to the stage. Our laughably overdressed escort scurried around, high strung from the rain ruining her outfit. Ahh, Rinka Morganza: the lovely priss in charge of this three ring circus of a disastrous affair. Today she graced us with an elaborate style that I could regrettably describe out of necessity for business knowledge. Gothic lolita, so in other words, a black frilly dress with lavender highlights and bows. The bodice was laced up with white and the soft pastel purple was visible under the lace. A miniature top hat adorned with needlessly ornate decoration like flowers, lace, and ribbons perched on her head, slightly off-centered. She wore white tights and tall black boots laced up with black ribbons from her knees to her ankles.

Complementing her outfit was makeup that made her appear ghostly white, aside from dark eyes and the same pastel purple applied as lipstick. I suppose it would have been a decent outfit for a Reaping...if she were not already soaked from the rain, her makeup was running, and it was only 10:30.

She shrieked at various members of her media crew to move faster. The few poor Peacekeepers roped into helping set up were running around with their heads cut off from all the orders she gave out. How pathetic. Despite the clouds and rain, it was oddly reminiscent of chasing ants with the focused sunlight from a magnifying glass.

Not long after the rain let up, and Rinkah scurried inside to fix her appearance, more people began to file into the plaza. Wide-eyed young faces and the grim faces of the older teenagers alike were filled with apprehension. Two of them were going to be shipped off to die, just like they were every year, like clockwork. Occasionally people from this District are capable, usually of the upper class since they tend to have the intelligence to avoid stupid situations. However, there are no guarantees.

Take for instance, some basic strategy. Statistically keeping any ally was far more costly than having one. True, they could be kept around and backstabbed conveniently, but people are not robots. They are predictable and have the same handful of thought progressions, but there is a tiny variable present in each person. As a tribute in the Games, you will never know every variable. You will not know when a tiny, innocent statement triggers something deep within a person and they turn on you in that instance.

The best course of action is to keep everything in your control. Anything too variable should be systematically avoided and eliminated. Not that I would ever need to implement this strategy. But considering how omnipresent the Games are, it was worth some rainy day's musing to develop a strategy myself. Just in case, I suppose.

A boy who had sat in front of me, a few rows below suddenly burst into tears. His friend rubbed his back reassuringly. I almost snickered. It's amazing how upset people would get about the Reapings. I never cease to feel amazed. There's a reason I always arrive to the Reapings early, after all.

I was surprised by how quickly noon arrived. Rinkah's boots clicked against the stage loudly as she babbled on about how thankful she was to be there, then rolled the clip they play every year to make the Capitol out to be a peacemaker. Whatever. They weed out some of the District's filth every year, so I couldn't be too upset with them.

"Alright, now let's pick our boy first!" she put on a cheery air despite the dark clouds overhead and palpable fear in the air. Luck was not on her side today. Just as she decided to draw a tribute's name, the skies opened up and downpoured. While the shriek she, and many others let out at the rain was amusing, the prospect of having to leave the plaza in ten minutes or so to walk back home was an unattractive prospect.

"As I was saying…!" she huffed into the microphone, quieting the crowd. She reached into the bowl and fished out a name. "Our boy is Oberyn Thael!"

 _Oh, so it's going to be like that._ I burst out laughing right as a crack of lightning tore a hole in the skies, intensifying the downpour of rain. The others in the sixteen-year-old section gave me bewildered glances and I strode past them into the deluge and towards the stage. The water-logged escort asked mildly if there were any volunteers, and of course, there were none. It was to be expected.

By the time I climbed the steps of the stage, I was absolutely soaked, not that I minded. The Capitol has the capability of curing a common cold, after all. I shook Rinkah's delicately manicured hand and stood, legs shoulder width apart and arms locked behind my back, scanning the crowd, daring anyone that could possibly be chosen next to even try to challenge me.

"And now for our girl!" she delicately walked over to the other bowl, removed the lid that kept the slips from becoming soggy and disintegrated, and produced a slip in moments. "Hazuki Izanami!" It was not the name of anyone I recognized, but that was for the better. The last thing I needed was someone who knew me and wanted revenge.

While Rinkah asked for volunteers, of which there wouldn't be, my mind raced. I fully intended on using the Games to advance my prospects. I could ingrain myself into the District leadership if I was Victor, and possibly expand my sights to the Capitol in the best case scenario.

The girl looked unbothered by the rain, dark hair pulled into a high ponytail reaching her shoulder blades and a single, thin braid hung off the side of her head, reaching her collarbone. She had high cheekbones and wore a scowl. Her pointed eyes were slits, boring over me. I hadn't said a word to her and she already hated me.

"District 3, your tributes!" Their applause was halfhearted in the rain. I glared daggers into the audience. If I had to suffer the rain on my glasses blinding me, they could at least pretend to be happy they weren't reaped.

It couldn't be helped, but it was a sufferable loss. In due time, they'll _know_ who the should be cheering for.

Rinkah ushered the two of us toward the courthouse to say our goodbyes. I was mildly impressed how unshaken Hazuki appeared to be, but the true test would be if she came to the train dry-eyed.

I said goodbye to my mother, who was as hysterical as you would imagine a mother like her would be. My father came and wished me luck, uncertain of what to say. None of my "friends" came. They were too busy congratulating each other on not getting reaped. _How shallow they were._ I was disappointed. The emotion that so many tributes were weighed down with from home did not burden me. More in my favor, of course. I boarded the train with a smirk.

Time to show the world what I was made of.

 ** _A/N: Hey, it's Celtic! Hope you liked this chapter! Your input matters to us a lot! Tell us how you liked this chapter and these characters!_**


	3. D2&4 Reapings: Barcarolle

**_District 2 and 4 reapings: Barcarolle_**

-Latika Hari, 18, D2-

Let's get one thing straight: I would rather be caught dead than caught cuddling with _anyone._ I like cuddles, of course, but nobody needs to _know_ that! I was going to volunteer for the Games that morning, and it was direly important that I kept up my image.

"Are you nervous?" Daniel asked, burying his face in my back.

"Of course I am," I sighed quietly, shifting slightly in his arms. "It's only human."

"True. But you're Latika Hari. You're going to knock their socks off." I heard the smile in his voice.

I realized in that moment that I had no idea how we got there, how I knew someone so intimately, especially someone I initially wrote off as an idiot. He really wore me down. He didn't give up and took the time to get to know me, and it… Happened. I found that I'd fallen for the idiot. And that was fine with me.

"True. I just hope everything goes smoothly."

"It will. Just don't overthink it." I nodded a bit, and we lay together in silence under a fuzzy blanket. He ran a hand through my dark hair, letting it fall between his fingers. "Will you leave it down when you're a Victor?"

"I suppose. I usually only keep it up when I'm training. When I'm a Victor I won't spend nearly as much time in the Center."

"Good. You need some time away from the Center. It'd do you good. You're super tense, Tika."

"How can you tell?"

"I know my girlfriend." He pulled me closer to him and I relaxed slightly in his touch. We were up pretty early, but I felt the pull of sleep once again tugging at my eyes.

"I was going to go for a run," I said, trying to sit up. He kept me down, though, laying on his warm bed, under the warm blankets, pressed up against him.

"You _were_ ," he said. "But now you're going to get more rest. You can worry about training later. Do some jumping jacks on the train for all I care. But now you sleep." His tone got more serious as he said, "I want to enjoy these last hours with you before you leave. Because who knows how much press will be following you around when you're a Victor?"

I relaxed again in his arms, rolling over so I'm laying on my other side, resting my chin on his chest and gazing up at his face. His blue-gray eyes were half-lidded as he was struggling to stay awake, his blond hair a static-y mess on the pillow. He was just as cute as awake, polished Daniel. I relaxed in his arms and felt myself falling back asleep.

I woke up the second time at a decent time to Daniel's alarm. He groaned as he was pulled out of sleep, but let his grip on me go so I could sit up.

"I should get going back home," I said, yawning.

"Okay."

I kissed his cheek, causing him to give me a sleepy smile. I got out of bed and grabbed my overnight bag. I was sure most of my family and friends assumed when I made this walk that we had a long night of passionate sex, or whatever their dirty minds concocted. I'd honestly would have rather had them thought that instead of discovering the truth.

I started out the door, sneaking past Daniel's family eating breakfast already in the kitchen. I quickly made my way home, checking the time as I went. I promised to meet Indira at my house at half past eight, and I was cutting it close. I slipped in the door, glad that I arrived before she did.

"There you are Tika!" ...Dammit. Or so I'd thought.

"Sorry. I was-"

"With Danny boy, yeah yeah. Come on, we still have to get you ready for the reaping! You surely don't think you can volunteer looking like a disheveled mess, do you!?"

"Of course not!" I went to my room quickly, her following. I took the quickest shower of my entire life and she immediately got to work making me into a beauty queen. I can't say I liked it, but I knew I'd have to get used to it as a Victor so I sat still.

Indira was my best friend, I considered her a sister. She had brown skin, dark hair, and brown eyes. She was a girl that liked to have a tight schedule and stick to it. She hated when people weren't punctual. She hated being behind schedule, and behind schedule we were. She did my hair and makeup in record time, frantically watching the clock the entire time. She was complaining over the loudness of my hair dryer when Ravinder finally appeared in my doorway.

"There you are Tika!" said the 15-year-old. He had my same skin and eyes, with black hair that was short and messy and thick. His eyes were lit up with a kind of excitement for I had long since matured out of. By that point he should have been at least mostly realistic, but my brother couldn't seem to pull his head back down from where it was up in the clouds. His idealistic nature proved his lack of intelligence, of course. He believed he still has a shot at volunteering, though he was not even in the Top 20 of his class at that moment. He will only be met with disappointment in the future. I could only hope he would mature enough to take it like a man by then. He had three years. "Mom and Dad have your breakfast ready!"

"Oh. Alright. Tell them Dira and I will be right down."

"Okay!" he beamed at me, his eyes sparkling with admiration. I knew I needed to get used to this if I was going to be a Victor, so I didn't chastise him like I wanted to. I just sat still as Indira helped me into the gray and black dress I was to volunteer in. I thanked her politely as we went to the kitchen for breakfast.

Father handed both of us a plate, glancing at us each one at a time. I could see in his eyes how glad he was that his oldest was someone as mature and powerful as me, and not someone so flighty and disorganized like Indira. He gave me an approving nod as I started to eat.

Indira had been my training coach ever since the girl who had once held the position was forced to drop out after overworking herself. Indira's kept me perfectly on track to the amount of training I can do to improve while staying healthy. I didn't know what I would've done without her, she's been the greatest personal trainer I could ask for.

"Anyways, I was saying that the Games have become far too much about fame and celebrity status, I think it needs to go back to the good old days, when the Games were about _honor!_ Honor is the most important thing, honor for District, honor for family, honor for your name and integrity! It has just become so commercial and glitzy," she sighed, complaining.

"Don't worry Mother, I will bring those things back to the Games."

"Oh, my girl!" she got up from where she was sitting to hug me while I was eating. I let her do so, but continued shovelling French toast into my mouth.

When breakfast was over, I was excused to find Daniel and walk to the reaping. _A volunteer should always strive to be early,_ I thought. I went with Indira, the two of us walking together to Daniel's house.

"Hopefully he actually got his ass out of bed after you got up," Indira remarked, snorting a bit to herself.

"I'm sure he did." It wasn't like me to give people the benefit of the doubt, but I could be lenient for Daniel. I really loved that big squishy sap. I didn't even mind that he dropped out of training. The last thing I wanted would be to volunteer next to someone I loved. No way in hell I would ever want to have thought about killing Daniel, and besides, I liked a man that could step back and let me wear the pants.

We were about to knock on Daniel's door when his little sister flew out the door, pushing past us with a hurried "Hi Tika!"

Daniel appeared behind her, his hair tamed, dressed up in his best for the reaping. He looked damn good like that. I took his hand and kissed his cheek, charmed by the inch that separated us in height (I was taller than him, which I didn't mind at all, of course). We kept holding hands as we walked with Indira to the reaping. We rarely got to spend time like this together, so when we had it we always took advantage of it.

We reached the Town Square just on time to get checked in. I reluctantly let go of Daniel's hand to get pricked by the Capitol needle so my blood could be documented, and waited for him to do the same. When he walked past the table to meet me, he gave me one last hug.

"I'll see you after you volunteer, my dear," Daniel said, kissing me on the top of my head. I gave him a quick peck on the lips. Usually I despised PDA, but this was a special occasion, and most people weren't paying attention anyways. I flashed him a brief smile and went with Indira to my spot for the reaping to begin.

Our escort, Emmanuelle, took the stage, her dark skin sparkling with golden tattoos and glitter. She gave us a smile as she introduced the video straight from the Capitol. The video played and I barely watched. Instead I spent the time exchanged excited glances with Indira. She smiled brightly the whole time. I felt nothing but relief that my best friend had no feelings of jealousy towards me because I was volunteering. It meant everything to me.

After the video faded to black, Emmanuelle gave us another smile. "Who's ready to meet our tributes!?" The crowd roared, the teenagers yelling the loudest of all. I usually abhorred this behavior, but today let go slightly. I didn't cheer along with them, though.

"Very good!" said Emanuelle. She walked to the females' bowl and chose a name. "Augusta Aston!" A girl started out from the 15 section.

I stepped out of the 18-year-old section and put up my hand. "I volunteer!" I shouted, loud and proud and confident. I walked to the stage, mounting the steps with confidence and wearing a huge, winning smile. I thought I might have to fake it, but the happiness came to me naturally as I looked out at the crowd.

"Wonderful, just wonderful! Tell me dear, what is your name?"

"Latika Hari," I said, calmly but proudly.

"Oh, wonderful!" she smiled and walked to the males section. She took a name from the very top. "Hiran Tamboli!" The boy looked somewhat dazed, as he walked out of the 14 section. "Do we have any volunteers?"

"I volunteer!" A boy stepped out of the 18 section, his posture tall and confident. He had wavy ginger hair and pale skin, and looked surprisingly lanky for a boy from District 2. I didn't recognize him at all from any training I've ever done, which is common as 2 is not a huge District, but… This guy couldn't possibly be the selected volunteer!? And yet nobody tried to volunteer in his place…

"Yes, oh yes! And what is your name, dear?"

The boy put on a lazy smile that further sank any hope I had for the guy. "Jack Cherenkov."

"Oh, yes! Wonderful!" Emanuelle beamed at us and put her hands on our shoulders. "District 2, your tributes, Latika Hari and Jack Cherenkov!" The applause roared in my ears as I reached out to shake his head. He made confident eye contact with me as he gave my hand a firm squeeze.

Then, we were brought back to the Justice Building, where I knew Daniel, Indira, and my family would be hustling to in order to visit me.

~.~.

-Orpheus Harper, 17, D4-

I came to pretty slowly, and realized two things immediately.

On the plus side, my nasty cold that had been haunting me for almost two and a half weeks had finally cleared up! I was back to one hundred percent!

On the flipside...It was Reaping Day, and I didn't even feel remotely prepared to face the day. Nonetheless I struggled out of bed and reached for my glasses. The world snapped into a blurry focus.

After combing my white tufty hair down so that it looked at least a little presentable, and throwing some simple cotton slacks and a shirt on, I reached for the small tin on my dresser. The white, opaque, glistening contents I retrieved from the apothecary down the street once a month ever since I could remember was running on the low side. Nonetheless I had enough to get through the week. I rubbed it all over my face and around my neck, down my arms and on the tops of my shoulders. I had forgotten my arms last week, and thus they were an angry blistering red.

I trotted upstairs to the kitchen for breakfast. My parents weren't the kind to be bright and shiny in the mornings, and today was no different. My father was trying to fry some bacon up, and my mother stared blankly at the wall, occasionally sipping at her coffee. I sat down after getting a cup of water.

"It's Reaping Day." Dad tried to spark some sort of conversation. I appreciated the effort, but he sounded like he was still half asleep.

"Yeah." I affirmed. Another round of awkward silence. At least it wasn't total silence. The bacon was reaching a savory sizzle, making my stomach grumble, and I could almost taste it...except I knew my dad was going to overcook it like always. It was a good thing I liked my bacon crispy.

"Your sister would have volunteered this day two years ago." Mom almost choked on her coffee, snapping to attention, when my father added that. She directed a fierce glare in Dad's direction.

"There's no use dwelling on what could have been." she sharply brought the conversation to a screeching halt. Back to the usual awkward silence. Normally, the silence was warm, and comfortable; sleepy. But today it was edged with tension, and my Mom didn't help with that in the least. The morning heat and humidity was already enough to amplify the sweat dripping down my spine from the tension.

"Here." Dad dumped a half dozen strips of bacon on my plate, splitting the rest between himself and Mom. His face betrayed no emotion, but I knew he was thinking about my sister, Calliope.

Just the thought of her was enough to make me feel the shadow of the illness that chased both my sister and I to the brink of death, three years ago. I remembered fever dreams, shaking, not being able to keep anything down, growing weaker and weaker until I had withered away to practically nothing-

I shook my head. I had to keep my head in the present, especially since it was Reaping Day.

"Orpheus, you're not planning on doing anything...you'll regret today, right?" my mother's unusually intense stare froze me in place, gluing me to my chair. _Breathe._ I bit off a chunk of bacon to give myself more time.

"Of course not. Not after everything that's happened." Somehow, I made my voice level. I surprised myself with how well the lie slid off my tongue.

"Good. I was worried you had prepared yourself for volunteering for your sister's sake." Mother paused to take a bite of bacon. "That would have been a terrible way to uphold her memory." I nodded and the tension in the room eased.

"You'd best head off to the Reaping. It's early this year." Dad stuffed the last strip of his bacon in his mouth and took my plate to wash. Mom nodded and I grabbed my clip-on sunglasses. I was out before anything else could be said.

It was a beautiful day. Through my lenses, the world looked as though a tea color had infused over it, warming it up. The air still lacked the bite of the noonday heat, and with the sea breeze, it was...nice. It wasn't often I could say that about the weather. It was usually miserable, considering how easily my skin burned.

"Orpheus!" I didn't need to turn around to know that Sibyl was calling me. She jogged up beside me with a goofy grin on her face. "You all ready for today?"

"Yeah, I think so." I smiled a little. She had been my motivator when I lost hope periodically during training.

"Not going to let how you exist get you down?" she raised an eyebrow almost comically. "Not going to talk yourself out of it because of how impossible it should be that an albino kid with a weird eye condition learn how to fight like you have?" As if on cue, I felt my vision worsen. It always got worse with stress.

"Not at all." I felt a weird kind of quiet calm. I was worried it would wear off once we got to the Reaping plaza. But for now I could savor the balming effect to my nerves.

"You're not going to tell yourself that your sister should be doing this because she turned out normal and was your parents' pride and joy and you're just the replacement?" her voice turned stern. I sighed.

"Look-no-I won't-Sibyl. Give me a break." I mildly requested, finally able to get a sentence out. She glanced at me with concern but the side of her mouth quirked up into a smirk.

"Alright, alright." My hands were already shaking but I couldn't tell Sibyl that. "I've got faith in you."

"Thank you." We walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence. The quiet bothers some people, but I can't understand how. Sometimes it's enjoyable to listen to the atmosphere in good company.

As we arrived, she spun and waved. "See you after!" and without another word she skipped off to go see her other friends before checking in.

I got my blood taken and printed at the front desk quickly and sat down in the 18-year-olds section.

I had made my choice years ago, even before my sister passed. We were both severely weakened by the wave of illness that swept through the District, but it proved fatal for her. I was able to recover and bounce back, against all reason and logic.

I had been sick on every single birthday of mine until Calliope died. I had been underweight and fragile and couldn't even see straight. Yet she was the one who couldn't keep anything down for days, and vomited and shivered until she withered away into nothing.

I took a deep breath and unclenched my fists. There was no need to get fired up about something I was about to remedy.

"Good morning District 4! How are we today?"

I barely heard the escort, a blur of blues and purple that called himself Borealis Greene. He was going on with the same formulaic Capitol speech the escort gives every year.

I felt so...distant from it all. Even the sun bearing down on me, the loudness, the brightness; I felt far too calm and removed. I needed to snap out of it, but it was like a haze over my mind that I couldn't escape. _C'mon, wake up, get with it-_

"And our boy is Raymond Drake!"

My heart stopped and everything came crashing down. The moment it restarted it set off at a lightning pace to match the speed of my feet flying to the stage before the words were even out of my mouth.

"I volunteer!" The people I shouldered past looked beyond surprised. I couldn't guess if it was because of whatever crazy thing my eyes were probably doing or if it was the fact that I was volunteering. Borealis looked stunned.

"So...we have a volunteer!" he tried to move on after getting past my appearance, but he still looked bothered. "What's your name, young man?" I was sweating like a pig, but my breathing was still even. _Good._

"Orpheus Harper." Borealis nodded, looking me up and down. Sure, with my long sleeves and baggy pants I probably looked like a scrawny twerp. But it was entirely to my advantage that everyone would underestimate me.

After an awkward silence, he moved on to the girl's bowl. "Solana Lupa!"

Immediately an energized call answered him. "I volunteer!" She swaggered up to the stage at an efficient, but eye-catching cadence. A wide smile graced her confident face and Borealis didn't even hold the mic out to her: she took it. Her eyes were lit with a playful flirting light when she delivered the crowd her name. "I'm Valencia Ferriz!" Borealis fumbled for the mic back, slightly flustered.

"A-and there you have it, our District 4 tributes for this year!"

The two of us were swept back to the stationhouse of the train, each of us being crammed into a tight office room. I was certain a Peacekeeper was stationed outside, and my inference proved true when Sibyl was thrown in.

"Orpheus, you did it! You looked awesome!" She smiled widely, nearly bouncing. "The hardest part is over for you!" I burst out laughing with her.

"There's still...the Games...you know?" I sputtered between snickering. "Don't talk me up _that_ much." She rolled her eyes and her smile faded.

"Your parents aren't coming you know." I nodded. I figured they would be beyond upset with me. It worked out for the best, though. There was nothing they could say to convince me that I wasn't just a replacement for my sister to them. "But I wish you the best of luck!" She gave me a quick hug and was out before her time was even up. She was odd like that. Always rushing off for no reason.

Within minutes I was back with Valencia and boarding the train to the Capitol.


	4. D5&6 Reapings: Alborada and Noctuelle

_**District 5 and 6 Reapings: A**_ ** _lborada and Noctuelle_**

-Lars McKinley, 18, District 5-

" _Look at Teeny Weeny Lars!" Rasputin said, sneering at me. "Mama's special boy."_

" _What an_ Angel _," Eliezer said, snorting as Clyde lifted me by the seam of my pants._

" _Please stop!" I said desperately, but no matter how much thrashing I did, I couldn't escape his grip._

" _Teeny Weeny Lars!" Levon said, from his position firmly against Rasputin's side. "So small and pathetic! Can't even tie his shoes!"_

" _Mama's Perfect Baby," cooed Eliezer, grazing a finger across my jaw, his lashes flickering to the side in disgust. "And yet without the woman you're helpless, aren't you?"_

 _I saw Clyde stick some more chew in his cheek and knew that soon it was going to be all over the inside of my only storage bin._

" _Please!"_

" _Listen to him beg," Rasputin said, leaning on the wall with a smirk. "He knows he's outmatched."_

" _Please! Not me!"_

" _Who else?" asked Eliezer, his gray-green eyes boring into mine. "Who else is there?" I noticed Levon tense at the question, the coward._

I got used to the beatings, usually the dread and foreboding was always the worst part.

 _The scene blurred out with the sound of my brothers' laughter on top of my wails, and I was left in darkness for a while._

I rolled over, but didn't wake up. Oh, how I wished I could wake up…

" _Now_ here's _a runt if I've ever seen one." Suddenly, I was standing with them. All of us together as brothers, looking down upon an outsider. He was a year older than me, but much smaller, thinner, and paler. His silver-looking gray eyes were wide in a plea for us to go easy on him._

 _Now Clyde was holding him up by his pants and I was on the other side, laughing. Levon was attached to Rasputin again, but this time Eliezer had an arm around my shoulders._

 _I had been in my cousin's position before, but I was so excited to stand with my brothers instead of against them that I joined in the fun. I was laughing as Glitch was whimpering and asking us to leave him alone._

That made me a coward too, of course. I was young, though, only six or seven, how was I supposed to know any better?

" _You're just lucky that Dad convinced Mom to let you in," Ras snarled._

My cousin Glitch and his parents were kicked out after Dad died. Dad's cause of death was never decided on, but I had some suspicions that Mom had something to do with it. I couldn't have ever reported it, though, as if the Peacekeepers gave a shit.

" _You're just here out of the goodness of Dad's heart! Taking our hard-earned money, eating our food, sleeping in our beds! As an outsider!" The rest of us agreed quickly._

" _We're cousins!" Glitch pleaded, his eyes full of tears._

" _You still don't belong," Eliezer said, the corner of his mouth going up._

" _We know what happened," Rasputin said._

I had no idea, at the time. Mom didn't even give me the birds and the bees, I had to get it from Eliezer and Clyde, who were very descriptive and also had no fucking idea what they were talking about.

" _How your parents were kicked out all because of you. And they were idiots to begin with, fooling around, but it all falls on you."_

Fucking hypocrite. It almost made me laugh, if the memory wasn't so traumatizing.

 _Mom had never yelled like she did that day. She was flaming mad._

" _You deadbeat! Failure! Do you have any idea the consequences for your action!? I always knew that you would amount to nothing, and I was proven right! You've failed, you're nothing but a fucking failure! You are not my son and you will leave my house!"_

" _Please, Mom." I had never seen Rasputin like that before. He was… He was Ras. He was the oldest. He was the figurehead. When in doubt all eyes looked to him. Now he was crying and on his knees begging._

" _I said get OUT!" she slapped him, hard, right across the face._

 _The other brothers were only watching in shock. Levon ran to his room after that, his face in his hands. I just stumbled backwards, running into the warm mass of Clyde, who wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me in closer to him._

" _Mom…" Rasputin looked up at her, in shock._

" _You've disrespected me and your father! If only your father could see you now! You weak, spineless, good-for-nothing boy! You were never loved, not by anyone! You have no home here, no home anywhere!" She pulled him up by his shirt collar. He was scared. He was really scared._

" _I'm sorry, Mom-"_

" _Don't call me that. You've lost the privilege of family."_

 _He glanced back at us. I could hear Levon crying from his room. Eliezer was cleaning his glasses, head down. Clyde was quivering, I could feel it from where he'd pulled me close._

" _Get out of here! Never let me see you again!" she shouted, so loud I was cringing and trying to cover my ears._

 _So, Rasputin left, and I've not seen him since._

 _After he was gone she turned back to us, her composure regained, her disposition just as chillingly gentle as always. "Sorry about that, Loves. Don't worry, that will never happen to you, so long as you make smart choices."_

I was twelve years old. Do you think that consoled me at all?

And after Rasputin left, she was even more toxic than ever. Two years later, as soon as Clyde was 18, he left with his share of our father's inheritance. It was really just a relief that he was gone.

Eliezer liked being the oldest, but he avoided Levon at all costs so everything he did to torment me came completely from him.

Then, something weird happened. He started spending time with this rich kid called Algernon, and after that he had a total personality change. It seemed he was always in a good mood, and he left me alone a lot of the time. Sometimes he would even greet me and ask how my day was. It was so weird. I realized why when I came back from school one day and saw them snogging on the couch. I didn't say anything, though. Eliezer took his share of our dead dad's shit and left in the middle of the night one night when he was 18, only leaving a note that he was going. I assume that Algy had something to do with the decision to go.

That just left me and Levon. Levon never acknowledged me or talked to me, instead preferring to avoid me like the plague.

That was better, though, now that we had rooms to ourself he couldn't hear me crying as I was trying to figure out what the hell I was feeling for York. We just left each other alone. He still hated me, though. I could feel his glare on me when Mom fussed over me, or when she was praising me. He just moved out a few months ago.

I didn't think life being the only one left in this damn house would be so hard. Now, I was the only object of my mother's affection left, and she was such a toxic and horrible bitch. She was hateful and spent all her time telling me that I was a failure and I couldn't do anything without Mama's love and affection, causing me to beg her for validation. She knew how to wear me down and she would never hesitate to do it. I was afraid of her, I hated it when she touched me and when she would say she loves me. I would believe it when she said it, even though I knew it wasn't true. She forced me on my knees, breaking down at her feet, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. She kept me there, she had an iron grip on me. It seemed I'd never be able to escape her.

And, of course, it couldn't have just ended there. Of _course_ not.

" _Do you know how pretty you look when you're fighting?" Casimir shifted on his elbows._

" _I don't care," I said, crossing my arms._

" _York wants his two best friends to get along, Lars. Just think of how ecstatic he'd be if we were dating!"_

" _Stop. Please." I'd never been hit on before, it was making me really uncomfortable._

" _But you're so pretty. You play hard-to-get, huh?"_

" _No. I just… Casimir, please. Just back off. I-I need space." At those words he only came closer, causing me to step back._

" _Scared of me?" His eyes danced with amusement. "Lars McKinley is afraid?"_

" _No, I'm just not interested." Not in him. Not at all in him. I barely even wanted to get to know the guy, but we were pushed together by my best friend York. The one I'm really interested in, I guess. I've been too scared to think about that, though._

" _It's York, isn't it?"_

" _No. I'm not gay."_

" _You're not? That can change."_

" _Stop. Casimir. Please."_

" _I love it when you say my name," he said, taking another step closer and cupping my jaw in his hand._

" _Step. Back." I clenched my fists. Instead, though, he took another step closer._

 _Too close._

 _I snapped, shoving him off of me._

 _Suddenly, though, my voice wasn't mine anymore. It morphed and changed into… Hers._

" _Get off of me! I'm not a faggot, the gays are ruining our society and I would never be a part of that! A healthy relationship is between a man and a woman and the homosexuals are invading the sanctity of the world we live in! It's gross! It's a lifestyle that is not right!"_

 _My vision blurred in panic but I noticed him looking shocked. I ran to a mirror on the wall but when I looked into it I didn't see Lars, the face I saw staring back at me belonged to her._

" _No! No! I don't want to become her!" The words I said came out in her voice. The voice of my biggest nightmare, coming from my lips._

I opened my eyes, gasping, quivering and covering in sweat.

Fuck, was I screaming? She'll know if I was.

I reached up and wiped the beads of sweat off my forehead. Another day. Another reaping. My last one.

It was early, really early, but I got out of bed anyways. I knew that she wouldn't wake up until 5:30, so I had some time. I wrapped one of my torn-up blankets around my shoulders and went out to the tiny family room. When I turned on the TV, I recognized the setting and the Arena that could only mean that my cousin was about to be tortured to death. Wonderful.

I decided that watching innocent kids collapse before my eyes in a puddle of blood didn't appeal to me, and turn the television off.

I sat on the raggedy, scratchy old couch as the room lit up with the rising summer sun. It was humid and sticky and hot, and the sweating didn't help, but it was a little bit peaceful here.

There were times that I could've believed that my brothers and I could get along. That is, until they all left me.

They were all able to leave because she didn't mind them. They weren't her precious, her youngest, her Lars. They were able to go and I would be trapped here forever until the bitch died. I couldn't wait for the day, which made me feel guilty because she _was_ my mother. But at the same time, she was not truly my family. She didn't love me. She made me think that everything was my fault, just like we all did to Glitch so long ago.

I looked around the dusty room, listening to the quiet tick of the only functioning clock in our house. I sat there for a while, half-asleep in the calm, peaceful place. Sometimes the old shack really felt like home. Too bad it was simultaneously my biggest nightmare. I wondered if I would ever find a place to call home that I wasn't afraid of.

I heard footsteps coming out to the family room, as I've trained myself to listen for.

"You're awake," she said. My mother was all dressed up in her reaping clothes already. I looked at the woman I resembled, also the woman I despised. Her dark, red-tinted hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Her eyes, the same brown as mine, were both gentle and cold at the same time. Her jawline was square and her skin was brown, like mine.

She loved me because I resembled her. My brothers hated me for it. And, well, I hated it too.

"I saved you a special reaping treat, my dear Lars," she trilled softly, her voice gentle and inviting. Anyone looking in from the outside would think her to be a normal, hard-working woman that loved her family. Only myself and my brothers knew any better.

I got up and shuffled to the kitchen, where she had a small pastry that looks a bit like a croissant.

"It's an apple turnover, Dear. It has sugar and cinnamon on it, see? I worked quite a long time to be able to have it for my precious baby's last reaping."

"Uh, thanks."

She reached a hand out, brushing a loose piece of hair behind my ear. At her touch, I tensed. These hands had just as easily dealt out pain and abuse, to me and to Rasputin, and maybe to the others as well.

"Go ahead then, take a bite. It's just for you, after all. The only one of Mama's boys that didn't leave her." I felt her kiss the top of my head, tensing more. The same hair she kissed, she had pulled before, forcing me to follow her.

I picked up the pastry and took a bite. I didn't get much of the apple the first bite, just the crust and sugar. The taste was sweet, extremely sweet, but also delicious. The next bite I got some of the brownish glaze, the chunks of apple adding a bit of tartness to the mix and making it even more pleasant. I wished that I could've been in a more pleasant place, eating this delicious treat for breakfast. The memories associated with the sweet taste would be too sour to enjoy it any other time.

"You still have to get dressed, Dear!"

"I know." I put the rest of the small pastry in my mouth, enjoying the explosion of flavor onto my tongue. We were dirt poor, so I very rarely got to eat things with flavor. I couldn't imagine how expensive it must have been to buy a real pastry with real fruit and real sugar on it. And how far she must have gone to get it, as well. It was times like this I thought she did love me, and felt bad for wishing her early demise. She smiled at me like I was valuable. Like I meant something.

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked, watching me.

"I did." I lick the sugar off my fingers. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome. Now dear, go get dressed."

I nodded and stood up, pushing my chair in and walking upstairs. I felt her eyes on me the whole way. I saw the clothes she wanted me to wear laid out on my bed. They were the only nice clothes I had, and I was pretty sure they had been passed down from brother to brother through the years.

I put my arms into the off-white dress shirt and buttoned it up, pulling the khaki pants up around it so it was tucked in neatly. I slipped the brown belt on, worn and tattered from brothers of all different body types using it, and pulled it tight. Finally I ran a hand through my hair, making sure that my bangs didn't fall into my eyes. That was really all I could do to look presentable.

I went to my bed and dug in the covers, finding the piece of cloth I was looking for and folding it neatly, sneaking it into my pocket. She hated it, but I refused to go out of the house without it. I figured I could just put it on after I left. The only way she'd see me in it is if I were reaped.

I went back downstairs, where she was waiting for me.

"Oh, Lars… You're so grown up, Dear." she walked over to me and kissed my forehead, causing me to draw away. Who could forget the pain she'd caused me?

"I want to go meet my friends before it starts," I said. I couldn't have cared less about my friends at this moment, but the excuse was the best I had.

"Of course. Give Mama a last hug before you go." She wrapped her arms around me and I hugged back, knowing that it would only last longer if I didn't.

I let go when she did and turned to leave.

"And Lars?"

I turned back around, trying not to scowl.

"You don't have that ugly black thing with you, do you?"

"No." I'd gotten good at lying.

"That's a boy. That ugly thing has really got to go. It's so disgusting and old." I was about to tell her another ugly thing that had really got to go and was so disgusting and old, but I held my tongue.

"I'll see you afterwards," I said quickly, walking out the door.

"I love you Lars!" she called after me. I left the house and closed the door behind me without looking back.

I wandered after that. I didn't really want to go see York and hear him blabber about this amazing and smoking hot girl he had a thing for. I definitely didn't want to run into Casimir. There was no one else I cared to see. I walked from store to store, without the money to buy anything.

Once I was sure she hadn't followed me, I took the old, oil-stained black bandana out of my pocket, opened it up, and tied it around my neck. I didn't care what it looked like, I couldn't remember a time that I'd left the house without it and I wasn't about to start. It was stained with oil from my work at the factory, trying to earn some money for us to be able to eat. It was heavy work, they forced me on it because I was young and a man.

I kept walking until I heard footsteps charging at me, quickly turning around with my fists raised, as I'd practiced with Casimir, who was teaching me how to fight before he started coming onto me like a creep.

It was just York, though.

"Hey Lars!" he put up a hand, his face set in a smile, his dark eyes lit up with optimism.

"Hey," I said, trying not to scowl (but I was anyways).

"You okay? You seem kind of…"

"Just nervous about the reaping." As I said, I'd gotten good at lying.

I really wasn't nervous about the reaping at all. What were the chances of more than one McKinley being reaped so close together? Pretty slim. It was my last one, and I didn't take very much tesserae (that responsibility fell on Ras, then Clyde, then Eliezer, then Levon, each one because he was the oldest at the time. She didn't let me take any, though). Besides, maybe it'd be good if I was reaped. I'd been considering just dying and getting away from her, and that would be the perfect opportunity to pretend there was fight left it me instead of dying like a coward.

"Ah, yeah. I am too. But I'm more nervous for after the reaping I think. That's when I'm going to tell Fantine how I feel!" he smiled, looking lovesick. Damn, how I wished he'd look at me like that.

"Yeah. Well, we should get going," I said, as the clock chimed. Luckily, Casimir was nowhere in sight. I hurried to the hoard of teens waiting to be signed in, and York followed. We both got blood taken and walked together to the section for 18-year-old boys. I thought I was home free when his voice came out of nowhere, causing me to jump.

"Hey!"

"Oh, hi Casimir!" York chirped cheerfully. Damn him. How could he not see how much Casimir sucked?!

"Hey," I grumbled.

"Wow, Lars really is nervous. You really spooked him!" York laughed playfully and punched me lightly on the shoulder. I forced a laugh, but wasn't amused. Truth is, I'm still horrified of Casimir, and horrified of the bullshit that came out of my own mouth when he pushed me too far.

Casimir's laugh boomed. "Don't worry, old pal! You'll be fine. It's our last one, after all! Maybe afterwards you can both give me a victory smooch!"

York laughed, unaware of the malice in his voice. "Cas, you know I'm straight, you big dopey flirt!" Casimir laughed, but only I could see his true colors.

"You know I'm straight too," I said, my voice with more of an edge. Casimir just hit my other shoulder as the reaping began.

The mayor, Algernon, (who I called Algy because that's how he introduced himself when he was messing around with my brother), started the reaping with a few remarks. He was a new mayor, young, 21 just like Eliezer, and looked horribly upset and nervous. Less than five years ago he was standing in the crowd of kids, after all. He finished his speech quickly and scurried back to his seat, his blond hair only slightly disheveled.

Our escort, an old bitch named Jacqueline Rawlings stepped up to the stage. "Welcome to the reaping for the 27th annual Hunger Games!" she squealed. That horrible woman. She was decorated in orange and yellow and gold and was all too perky.

She showed us the video, watching it as if it never got old. Then, she went over to choose a name of the girl.

"Rai Raines!"

I snorted to myself. Rai Raines. Who in their right mind would name their child Rai Raines? The girl came from the 17-year-old section. Her eyes were fiery as she walked slowly up to the stage, keeping on a resting bitch face. She had brown skin and wavy black hair that went down to her mid back or so. She was wearing a blouse and skirt, and worn-out nice shoes. She certainly didn't look happy to be there.

"Very good!" Jacqueline said, smiling. "Now for the males!" She walked over, thrust her hand in, and pulled out a name without swishing them around at all. "Lars McKinley!"

York gasped next to me. His eyes filled with tears. I shrugged it off, giving him one last look as I started up to the stage. I kept my expression the same, as I always have when I was in danger. I walked up the steps and met Rai's intense gaze with one just as intense.

Jacqueline felt the tension, very obviously as she closed out with a weak, "Everyone, your tributes, Lars McKinley and Rai Raines!"

Rai thrust her hand out at me and continued to stare me down. I took her hand with a strong grip, which she matched as we shook.

Then we let go, turned around, and walked into the Justice Building.

~.~.

-Rook Nouvelle, 17, D6-

I rolled over to check the wall clock, lit dimly by early morning light. 7:35. I hadn't slept at all over the course of the night, just drifted in and out of echoes of last night's disaster.

" _You failed. Rook, fuck, you piece of shit, you put off your last chance until it was too late and you blew it!"_

I drew an unsteady breath, feeling my ability to breathe constrict.

" _You know what's going to happen now! We're all going to starve and wither away! We could barely support our family to get to this point and I just got demoted. We won't survive the winter."_ My mother's hysterical voice clipped and seared my ears with pain, a ghost of the explosion it had been the night prior.

The horrible moment where I pushed through the crowd of students at school to see the list of people moving to the honors track of classes, the one shot I had at moving up in status in the District-and my name was not on it.

My grades alone were not enough to boost me to the honors classes, that much I knew. I needed a standout quality and my card to play was my artistic hobbies.

There had been a contest the week before to paint a self-portrait in any meaning of the phrase an artist could take it. If I won, it would have been enough. That was the glimmer of hope I had pinned so much on...and in that moment it crashed to the ground at terminal velocity, in a death spiral.

That single fucking failure had damned my family.

I snapped back to the present, focusing on steadying my breathing again. It was quiet, the light drizzle of rain providing the perfect white noise to fall asleep to. But it was Reaping Day. So I got up to clean the mess I had left behind last night.

I started with the shredded paper and ruined canvases. They would be pretty easy to replace, but the I would continue to find tiny shreds of paper all over my room for a long time from now. I decided to pick up the larger pieces first, and worry about the miniscule bits later. I gathered them into a plastic trash bag, bit by bit.

I picked up the tubes of paint scattered about the room, placing them in rainbow order out of habit. _Roy G. Biv. Red, pink, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, beige, white, and black. Perfect._ I kicked a colored pencil on the ground on accident, and realized they were rolling around on the tile floor, all out of their case. I put them in rainbow order as well.

I took a moment to size up the mess. Paint splattered nearly every tile, the walls, my arms, the ceiling, my bed and the ruined paper and canvases, of course. To salvage it would be...difficult. There would be a sizeable amount of hot water and soap needed. I found myself unable to muster the effort or will to care, about the mess or the hunger gnawing at my stomach. I would have to eat something before the 9:30 Reaping regardless.

Looking over the ugly, rash blotches of color made it hard to believe I had once loved pouring my soul into it. The torn sketches and paintings that once made up my portfolio suggested I was able to accomplish something respectable with these tools and understood how to manipulate color to my will. That perception couldn't be further from the truth.

I slunk out of my room to the bathroom across from it and realized the cause of the throbbing sting on my forearms. A bloody X-acto knife gleamed, balanced precariously atop the sink. Honestly, I thought all the red was paint. But this made much more sense. I sank to my knees. Another anxiety attack had completely overrode my control. It was only a matter of time before it would kill me someday.

There were four thin cuts on each arm, with a gouge on my left arm from a deeper, jagged cut gone wrong. My hand must've slipped.

We still had a little rubbing alcohol. I diluted it with some water to make more of the pricy substance. If my parents found out I was doing this...I couldn't finish the thought.

I hissed through my teeth as I cleaned out my cuts. At least they were shallow, barring the one. After the first cut was sanitized, a numbness settled over me. And with horror, I realized that I didn't care that my family was going to die in a few months. Or maybe I did. I didn't feel much of anything at that point.

A little voice in the back of my head told me I should probably clean the bathroom tile stains. Surprisingly, they came off cleanly with cold water. The little voice persisted, telling me to clean the rest of the blood off of me. By the time I finished it was almost 8:30. My family wasn't out of bed yet. One small blessing. Last night they pushed and pushed and pushed, and it shoved me over the edge. I felt volatile, despite the numbness. It was like hitting freefall. And at some point, I was going to hit the ground.

The little voice told me to get changed. I put a long-sleeved shirt on, and jeans with half a dozen tears and holes in them. For some reason I was still going to the Reaping, but I guess it was because that little voice of reason said I needed to. My little brother was still too young to worry, and my parents too exhausted. I knew they slept soundly last night. I could hear their snores every half hour.

I munched a small piece of cheese along with a couple slices of bread, sipping water as needed. Luckily, the rain had stopped...I found myself unable to care either way, honestly, it just felt like the right thing to think.

It was a twenty-five minute walk to the plaza. Plenty of people were already there, laughing, wandering about, talking, explaining, living.

"Hey, Rook." The only person who would ever remotely choose to spend the precious pre-Reaping time with me rounded a corner and trotted over to me energetically. Grackle Cory...just Grack to me.

"Hey." I answered faintly. Grack instantly deflated, their face lighting up with concern. They reached out to my upper arm, trying to show some kind of support but I instantly flinched away. Somehow Grack had chosen one of the cuts to touch.

"If there's anything I can do...I can only imagine what the nuclear war last night was like…" they bit their lip and played with their dark hair nervously. Grack was never good with the whole sympathy thing and neither was I, but it was nice of them to try.

"I don't really want to talk about it…" I mumbled. Grack nodded with more understanding than I thought possible. Who knows if they understood, but I didn't have the energy to figure it out.

"Why don't you get yourself together and we'll do something nice after the Reaping?" Grack tried for a smile and I felt something passing for one form on my face. They squeezed my shoulder reassuringly and went off to one of the 17 year old sections. They had already checked in.

When the Peacekeeper pricked my finger I felt a shudder pass through me. It was a good thing this would be over fast.

Within minutes of sitting down in 17 year old females' section, the Reaping began. Our escort this year was a mess of bright neon colors that hurt my eyes to look at directly. She introduced herself as Prudentia Bethlem, and went on a flashy speech about the Capitol. I barely had the energy to function today, much less the energy to focus and understand what this loud, abrasive woman wanted with us today. She carried the microphone too close to the speaker when she fished a name out of the male's bowl and caused a static pop to blow out everyone's eardrums.

"Sorry, sorry, just wanted to make sure you were all awake!" she haughtily apologized, fishing far too long for a name. "And this year's boy is...Felix Hartell! Unless there are any volunteers?" Not a single voice issued forth in response. Felix stumbled to the stage, a small boy that wouldn't last long judging by his wide, shell-shocked eyes.

While I stared at the ash-stained boy and his grey beanie, she called the name of this year's female. It didn't hit me what she was saying until she repeated it.

"...Rook Nouvelle? She is here, right?" I jolted back to reality and froze instantly. The firm grip of a Peacekeeper's hand on my arm sending pain shooting up my arm thawed my daze completely.

"No, no stop!" my voice rose frantically. "I-I hurt my arms, I'll go, I'll go, just stop!" I couldn't see the Peacekeeper's face underneath their helmet but I saw the slight tilt of confusion to their head. They rolled my sleeve up to my elbows and stepped back in shock, suddenly realizing what they had done.

It sunk in. I had been reaped. And with the gears turning in my mind, I thought I would take advantage of the Peacekeeper's ignorance. I turned to the stage and rolled both of my sleeves up as far as they would go while I walked, the numb fog I had been engulfed in finally fading away. I could not ignore the whispers and soft gasps at the state of my arms, but maybe they would work in my honor. I wasn't hiding them, after all.

"Oh my dear, welcome. We'll get you something for your cuts after." Prudentia tsked almost motherly at me. I glanced down and realized the new cuts from last night were bleeding open and the pain felt as far away as I had been from myself all morning. Her heels clacked off the stage and she stopped, avoiding raising our arms like normal. She probably didn't want to get infected by all the blood diseases she imagined I had.

"District 6, your tributes for the 27th Games!" There were a few claps. I must look tougher than I thought, standing on a stage with my pain bared for all to see, dripping onto the stage. And after a moment of silence, I was whisked away to the Justice Building.

Grack was the first one to burst into the small room I was shown into.

"Rook, I-I'm sorry-" they blubbered. I waved my hands in a dismissive gesture. "I didn't know, your arms-" I shook my head again.

"It's alright. It'll be okay, Grack." I even managed a small smile, feeling more like myself than I had in a long time. "I've got a plan. I'm going to save you and my family." Grack's dark eyes shot wider open with disbelief.

"You….? Rook, you…." Grack smiled, trying so hard not to look sad. "Alright. Don't get cocky, although I don't think you would. Keep a level head and I know you can do it." I felt a tattered bit of hope rise inside my chest. I would _not_ let this one crash. "And Rook?" They smirked and laughed, as loudly as the bird Grackle shared their name with. "Try to get your stylist to put you in something with feathers. Please. Bird puns are the bomb!" They held their fist out to me expectantly.

"Of course!" I bumped their fist and felt a giddiness about everything. This was meant to be. This was my second chance. Grack was spirited out, but I wasn't allowed to leave yet. It took me a sober minute to realize they were giving my family time to come. I felt my hopes deflate slightly at the prospect of facing my family after the spectacle I put up. I would have liked to have seen my brother one more time but...

No one came.

~.~.

 _ **A/N:**_ **Celtic** _and Legend_ **here again!** _So we ran into a bit of a issue and by bit I mean a big one. We're upping the rating because of the stuff we planned being….explicit, as you can see from the dark turn of this Reaping, even._ **So just so you know we're going to bump up the rating to M. If you're not comfortable with that, it's totally fine and we understand, don't feel the need to keep on reading if it's going to impact you negatively.** _Yeah_ **! Plus, we will put trigger warnings and such before the more gorey or triggering parts, so if you want to read anyways you can know what to skip.** _Anywhoo, we hope you're enjoying Monochrome so far! This marks the halfway point for the Reapings, whoah!_ **If you enjoyed it please leave a review telling us how you liked the characters and what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome here!** _Right! Alright, I think that's everything….until next time! (which hopefully will be soon)_


	5. D7&8 Reapings: Kinderszenen

_**District 7 and 8 Reapings:**_ ** _Kinderszenen_**

-Belle Sawyer, 16 D7-

I woke up and still felt the dull pain of sorrow that pulsed in my chest and my arms. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a bloody rag. I sat up, my face still tear-stained. I had only slept for 4 or 5 hours at the very most.

Seeing the objects in front of me again made the feelings come back to my throat. If my family had been asleep, I would have let out a small sob, but they were most certainly awake. I looked at the lines that marked my arms, my shoulders, my chest. I looked at the scars that defined me, branded me as a two-faced liar.

I closed my eyes, silently wishing it didn't have to be like this. I wanted to know why I couldn't have just been like my friends and family. I wondered why I had to lie all the time, why I had to hide. I begged anyone or anything that could possibly hear me to take away this pain and sadness.

I knew I was a liar. I knew I was deceitful and two-faced. I knew I was fake, all the time I was fake. I hated being like this. And yet, I didn't have a choice.

"Colton, get your ass out of bed!"

Seeing as nobody was in my room but me, I cringed. I hated hearing it. I hated it so much.

I made myself get out of bed, taking a sweatshirt from my nightstand and putting it on over my head to hide the lines. They were so easily hidden underneath long sleeves and a smile.

I went out to the kitchen, not bothering to make any effort towards my appearance quite yet. Paralee was sitting at the table, nibbling on a piece of bread. She always ate slowly, claiming that it felt like she had more to eat that way.

"About time," she remarked, sliding a piece of bread towards me. "Eat up, Runt."

"Thanks," I said, smiling sunnily at her. She rolled her eyes and looked the other way. I put the bread to my lips and ate. It really wasn't much, but it was food.

"Are you nervous, Colton?" My mother asked, glancing at me.

"Of course I am, a little bit. After all, my name will be in more than last year. And I'm nervous for Huxley, 'f course. Your last year is also your scariest. You have your name in there the most times. 'Nd he took all that tesserae for us…"

"Yes, that was kind of him, wasn't it?" she smiled at me, and then punched my Dad on the shoulder. "Wasn't that kind of your son?"

My father grunted. "Sure." He didn't care much for kids, my father. He usually spent his time out working.

"Well, your _daughter_ is going to be out of here as soon as possible," Paralee said, getting the crumbs off her fingers. I wanted to yell and scream. She's not the only daughter. She's not. I just shifted a little bit, though, swallowing the words down.

"Hmph," said Dad.

"And we'll still check up on her when she does," Mom said, kissing the top of her head.

"Ew," Paralee made a face. If only she'd known how lucky she was.

"Goood morning, family!" Hux said, strutting into the room cheerfully.

"Good morning Hux," Mom said. Huxley had his dark hair combed neatly, a black dress shirt contrasting with his olive skin. His brown eyes were alight with a smile. My brother was always this energetic. He resembled me, though. People had often thought we were twins.

"Morning!" I said to my brother. He darted across the room and gave me an affectionate noogie.

"Morning Little Bro!" Even though the words were said with affection, they still stung and hurt.

"Are you nervous Hux?" I asked.

"Me? Of course not! Because if I'm not reaped then hey, I'm still breathin'! And if I am reaped, I'll just have to kill everyone and win and come home, then we'll be rich! Either way it's a win!" I knew that he meant his words. He was truly confident, dare-I-say arrogant enough to believe that it was that easy.

I just laughed it off, though. "Yeah. True."

"You, little brother, wouldn't last a second in the Games. That's okay, though. Your big brother would volunteer for you if that happened." He sounded genuine, like he would actually do that. Maybe he would… He does care a lot about me…

"Thanks," I said, smiling at him. He sat down and ate.

"Are you really going to the reaping dressed like that?" he asked.

"Of course not," I said.

Suddenly the door opened and I heard another "Gooooood morning family!"

 _Oh no_ , I thought. _It's Becker! Becker's here and I'm still in my sleeping clothes! I haven't even combed my hair!_

Paralee rolled her eyes as he strutted in. His black hair was still damp from a reaping morning bath. He was wearing a periwinkle shirt and a black bowtie, nice dress pants and good shoes. He was smiling brightly, his warm brown eyes lit up with happiness and optimism and confidence.

"How's the family today?"

My mother just laughed. "Do your parents know you're here?"

"Of course!" Becker smiled and I felt my heart pounding. I quickly got up.

"Running away from me already Colton?!" Becker asked with a good-willed smile.

"I have to get changed," I said. "Although getting away from you is a plus." I grinned at him and he laughed, ruffling my hair.

"True, true! You go get changed now."

I went to my room. I was used to changing into clothes like the long-sleeved button-down shirt and black tie, but that didn't make it any less uncomfortable. I'd looked in that mirror hundreds of times, and every time the image staring back at me wasn't anything like I wanted. I was used to it, though, so the pain was dull and barely noticeable.

I smoothed my hair and went back out to where Huxley and Becker were laughing loudly. Paralee and my father had left, and my mother was smiling at them.

"Are you going to see Ralph before the reaping?" she asked.

"Yeah, I was just going over there now."

"Good old Ralph!" Huxley said, smiling in a way that made me think he was wishing Ralph was his younger sibling. "Well, Colton doesn't get to leave yet! Not without saying goodbye to his favorite older brother!" Huxley lunged at me and locked me into a half-Nelson, ruffling my hair.

"Hey!" I said, but laughed it off.

"Huxley, let go of Colton," Mom said, smiling.

"Boys will be boys, right Ma?" Becker said, laughing.

"Bye Huxley. I'll see you afterward."

"See ya!"

"Bye Becker. Good luck." I smiled at him, and he smiled back at me and my heart skipped a beat.

"Good luck to you too."

I started off to Ralph's house, giggling on the way. The door was unlocked, as always, and I let myself in.

"There you are! I thought you weren't gonna come around this year!" Ralph was leaning back on his chair so that two legs were off the ground, his feet propped up on the table. His parents always worked on reaping days, but he liked the alone time, he told me. But he said he liked time with me just fine, too.

"I slept late," I said, shrugging and sitting next to him. "You'll fall if you keep doing that."

"You'd laugh," he said.

"Yeah, I probably would." Although I didn't really want him to get hurt. He grinned at me, green eyes alight. I smiled back.

"You're not nervous, are you? You're a pussy about most everything, so I bet you are."

"A little bit. More for Huxley though."

"Ah, yeah. Hux, good guy. He'd win the Games, though, if he went."

"He thinks he would too," I said. "He's got a big head."

"Yeah, he does." Ralph grinned at me, but his eyes were filled with malice. "You know who else has a big head? Fucking Clematice Hepburn. She's so fake. What a bitch."

I didn't like when he talked and gossiped about people, but just smiled and nodded anyways. I knew I was being two-faced, but I couldn't be the person I really wanted to be. He'd certainly hate me.

"I heard that she was pregnant, but I dunno if it's true. I wouldn't put it below her, though, that slut." I nodded and smiled, shifting uncomfortably. Suddenly the door opened and someone else walked in. "Ah, yes. Speaking of sluts!"

Collier walked in just then. I lit up at seeing him. Ralph's older brother Collier was really nice, I liked him a lot! Ralph hated him, though.

Collie came into the kitchen. "Good morning you two."

"Hi Collie!" he took off a collar choker and rubbed at his neck. He looked pretty tired, his neck and wrists were red, his neck was all bruised. His hair was damp and he had some kind of frosting or glaze on his face.

"Whore," Ralph said, scowling at him.

"Makes me some damn good money," Collie said, putting a wad of money on the table.

"Wow Collie, that's a lot!" I said. "How did you make that much!?"

Collie just laughed. "You don't want to know. You really don't."

"He's disgusting," Ralph said.

"I'm also the reason you're eating bread and butter and jerky," Collie said. "I'm gonna go wash off and change."

"Take your damn time," Ralph sneered. Collie left the kitchen.

"He's so disgusting," Ralph said. I didn't see what was wrong with him. Collie was fun, and friendly, and really funny, as well. And charming. He was also prettier than most anyone I know, including Paralee. I just shrugged and smiled. "Anyways, where was I?"

Ralph talked some more until Collie came back, dressed in his nice clothes. His shaggy dark hair wasn't quite as greasy, and he smelled nicer. He wasn't quite as red, though his neck was still bruised. I never asked about that, though, as there'd never been a time where I didn't see him without the bruises so I assumed they were a medical condition. Collie sat at the table across from us, ruffling my hair on the way. His touch was much gentler than Hux's though.

"So, your 5th Reaping." He sighed nostalgically.

"Your first year safe from them."

"That's right, Doll." He smiled at me, and I laughed, flattered. Ralph always thought I was laughing at Collie, but the truth was that when he called me that I was just flattered. It was such a cute nickname. Feminine. I loved it when Collie was flirty, even if it was all in play. "Here's living breathing proof that reapings aren't so bad. There are lots of kids with their names in there."

"Yeah, that's true!"

Ralph just scowled. "We shouldn't spend too much time breathing his air, Colton. We should be on our way."

"Oh, we should. Well, I guess I'll see you later Collie."

"Nice to see you, Doll!" he called after me, as Ralph quickly went out the door and I followed.

We walked to the Square together, keeping a distance. I was usually affectionate, but Ralph hated it so I usually just left him alone.

When they put the needle into Ralph's finger, he flinched. When I felt the pain, when I saw the blood, it didn't bother me. I'd definitely seen worse. We walked to the 16 section together, standing side by side. Ralph pointed people out to me, their stupid hair or their horrible outfits, their pathetic breakdowns. I just nodded like I'd agreed.

The mayor started speaking, and the reaping began.

The escort, Alcott Beaumont, graces the stage with a smile. He wore a purple fur coat with sparkly black pants and high-heeled boots. His dark skin had purple glitter covering it, his lashes long and dark around bright purple eyes.

"Welcome, District Seven! To the reaping for the Twenty-Seventh Annual Hunger Games!" The crowd was dead silent. District 7 tributes stood a higher chance than most, usually, because of the nature of our work, muscle-building hard labor. That still didn't change the fact that the Games were horrifying. They turned teens into murderers. I wasn't a killer. And, when it got down to it, I knew Huxley wasn't, either. Nor Ralph. "First, we will select our male tribute!"

I found rewatching the reapings that the traditionalist and most of the lady escorts chose the girls first. The males, and some of the younger, edgier ones, picked the boy first.

The District was silent as he walked to the bowl in question. He put his hand in the bowl and swirled it around, pulling out a name.

"Colton Sawyer!" I couldn't control the cringe this time. After all, I had just been reaped. I had just been reaped to my death. I swallowed hard, doing my very best not to cry. I walked up to the stage slowly, my lower lip quivering. My eyes pooled with tears. I stand up on the stage, glancing nervously to the crowd of 18-year-olds, where Huxley was standing, clutching Becker's arm. His eyes were wide and when he made eye contact with me, he buried his face in Becker's arm. But he didn't take my place. I realized that I wouldn't have wanted him to.

Alcott walked over to the girls' bowl, and reached in to pick a name. "Melanie Shepherd!"

The girl stumbled out of the crowd, and we all realized with a cold feeling of horror that she was only 12. She had warm brown hair and wore a very simple little dress. She was quiet, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she walked up the steps. Her eyes were wide and shocked and sad.

"Well, shake hands now, you two."

Melanie put out her hand first. I reached up to grab it, arm shaking.

"Everyone, your District Seven tributes, Melanie Shepherd and Colton Sawyer!"

The District applauded weakly. I did everything I could not to cringe again.

Colton. Hearing that name was miserable to me. Being referred to in this way, Little Bro, Colton, Son, all the like… I wasn't sure how much more I could take of it. I didn't know how much longer I could take without coming out to my parents, confessing everything, even if it meant they'd hate me.

 _Belle. My name is Belle. I am a girl named Belle._

I realized that I wouldn't have had much longer to live with it, though. Not much longer to live at all.

I was going into the Hunger Games.

~.~.

-Garrett Oriole, 16 D8-

I snapped awake with a gasp and tried to move way too much, too fast. It was as if my whole body just twitched awake...at the expense of my left hand's index finger.

"You've got to be kidding me…" I groaned, barely able to see the mess I had fallen asleep in. Part of it was my hair that had grown far too long and hung in my face. The other was the sinking realization that I fell asleep on the sewing machine last night. My neck ached like I had slept with a cinderblock for a pillow, and somehow I managed to sew my finger to the scrap fabric I was practicing a stitch on. Luckily it was a loose enough stitching that I hadn't lost circulation in my finger, or done any real damage.

I reached for my seam ripper and tore the thread from my poor finger, cueing me in on the other mess I fell asleep to: the thread had tangled and my sewing machine was currently inoperable. Great. Not to mention today was Reaping Day, so I really didn't have much time-

"Wait. Today is Reaping Day and I really don't have much time." I repeated to myself, feeling a little stupid and groggy. My bleary vision finally cleared up and I yawned. I would deal with my sewing machine later. Our Reaping would be within the hour, if my sense of time was correct. It usually was. It had to be, with as much as I tried to be efficient with any lick of free time I could find.

I moved the old chest containing mostly finished projects and nicer fabrics I scavenged from in front of my closet and produced a nicely pressed cotton shirt, with matching pants on the same hanger. The hanger itself was rusted, but it was to be expected since we scavenged the metal. I'm pretty sure my biology class covered something about the dangers of rusting metal, but my mother called it "Capitol Propaganda Bullshit", so I wasn't going to bother convincing her otherwise.

Once I got changed, I padded over to the kitchen. My mother looked as if she had just gotten back, and she triumphantly held up a small bag from the bakery two blocks away.

"I've got a cinnamon raisin bagel for both of us and a little cream cheese!" she sat down and handed me a butter knife. I didn't even know how to respond for a minute.

"Th...thanks Mom," I smiled. She was in a good mood today, which was a good sign for my luck. There had been Reaping mornings where she wouldn't even get out of bed to see me off, but those were earlier on. I think she realized that the chances were pretty low that I would get taken away from her.

"Anything for you, babe," she trilled. "You've turned out so well, I thought I would try my best to get something nice for you since I couldn't do much for your birthday." I appreciated her trying so hard, but she really didn't need to. After work on my birthday a few weeks ago, I was given the rest of the evening to work on some sewing projects and I finished a quilt I had spent the past 6 months on.

"It's fine...really…" I tried to protest a little but she cut me off.

"I have to make up for the fact that you've only had one parent! Your good-for-nothing father only gave you half your genes and left, so I should compensate," she sniffed, "That asshole Stringer is probably stringing some girl along right now." I quickly tried to think of a way to turn her mood around.

"Yeah but he would never get his kid amazing cinnamon raisin bagels and cream cheese!" I chimed in. She lit up. Thank goodness.

"Yes you're right, sunshine! I'm a much better parent." With a huff, she took a bite into her bagel and her features softened. The bagel was still warm, I couldn't blame her. The tartness of the cream cheese offset the sweet pastry and I was in heaven. "But you need to get going. You got a late start this morning."

A glance at the clock proved she was right: I only had about 20 minutes before the Reaping. Luckily, the plaza was close. So I set off at a reasonable pace out the door of our apartment and down the stairs.

The crowd extended even toward our apartment building. I had to fight through parents and crying tweeny-bopper age kids, that range of 11-13 that was so awkward, and in this case, absolutely terrified on this day every year.

I turned a corner to see the registration table but almost tripped over a kid the moment I took a step.

"Hi!" The little boy couldn't have been more than five or six years old. He had a toothy grin and a scruffy, almost greasy look about him that characterized the financially lower end of the district.

"Erm, hi sunshine," I kneeled down to his level. His bright brown eyes looked green in the warm sunlight. "Where are your parents?"

He shrugged simply. "I dunno! Mama told me to leave the house and Dad wasn't home yet. He goes out and sleeps around a lot! He must be very tired!" I felt a look of shock or distaste, I don't really know which, freeze on my face. It wasn't like that kind of situation wasn't common, but the kid was so blunt and cheery about it that a kind of slow burning anger surfaced in my gut. This boy was clearly a good kid, and his parents didn't seem to give a flying hoot about him.

"Yeah…" I supplied faintly, "He...probably is…"

"He and his friends do lots of sleeping. Mama calls them stupid whores." His demeanor remained just as cheerful as it had been before, as if he were talking about the pleasant weather or what he does in his free time.

"Um...whores isn't a word you want to say too loudly, sunshine…" I trailed off.

"Mama doesn't like Dad's friends. She says that if he wasn't giving money to the family, she wouldn't've married him." His words echoed things my mother says when stress gets to her, or money gets tight; almost eerily close. " _If your father hadn't promised money and I hadn't had you, I wouldn't be here right now!"_

"Hey are you okay?" He bounced on his toes and looked up at me, his look of innocence unwavering.

"Yeah of course!" I laughed weakly. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Bronx! Bronx Stringer! Mama doesn't want me to be a Stringer, but since she's married I am!" _Wait, wait, wait, wait-_

"Stringer?" I choked. "Did I hear you right?"

"Mhm! Mama doesn't like Dad, she says he's really recklessly may've knocked up people, but I think she meant knocked out. 'Cause they're always sleeping." I couldn't believe it. The sheer odds were….well actually depending on how much he got around, maybe the odds weren't that bad.

"Listen, Bronx!" I took a deep breath. "So we…. _could_ be brothers." My mind was racing. I would have to get some confirmation info from my mom and Bronx's dad, but the possibility was _there._ This cute kid could be my _brother!_ Giddiness surged through my head and I was starting to feel a little light-headed.

He watched me in silence for a second, his little face twisting with an expression of confusion. In a second, his sunny disposition returned brighter than ever. "Brothers!?"

"Yeah! Brothers!" I smiled, his enthusiasm infectious. Bronx made a happy squeal and shot forward, wrapping his arms around my neck.

"Last call for Reaping registrations!" Oh shit.

I carefully pried Bronx off me, his little feet bouncing off the ground with excitement. "Okay I need you to listen very carefully, sunshine." I grabbed an extra napkin I kept stuffed in my pocket and a stubby graphite pencil I also kept on me and scribbled my address on it. "Keep this napkin no matter what. Go here and you can visit me! After the Reapings, if you want, even! But I have to go now, okay?"

"Okey dokey!" He beamed at me and gave me a big thumbs-up.

I waved at Bronx and rushed over to the table. The worker glared at me but took my fingerprint nonetheless and with good reason: our escort Yumi Konohana had already started speaking and was ready to play the "War….Terrible War" video. A handful of people in my section gave me dirty glances when I strode over and sat on the very end. It's not like being as late as I was mattered. Why would anyone want to come to the Reapings early, anyway? Unless you wanted to watch people cry...that's weird and creepy, though.

While the video played, I analyzed Miss Konohana's outfit. Our district was clothing and textiles, and she always wore something chic and interesting to celebrate that in her own Capitolite way. She had the opportunity to move to escort for better Districts several times in the last five years, but she seemed to really like our District. At least someone did.

Today she wore an interesting combination of soft, light pink and warm brown. It was a sleeveless dress with a high neckline, coming to the base of her throat, and a dark brown cord belted at the waist. The dress was floor length, but there was a slit running up to her upper thigh. The dress itself was surprisingly a simple coffee-brown color, that darkened in a gradient starting at the knee. But the wow factor was the decorative factor of the dress: pink five-point flowers swirled up the dress, sweeping upward asymmetrically from the hem of her dress up across to her opposite shoulder. Delicate flowers had somehow been attached to her arms and peppered them in delicate clusters, the largest being on the back of her hands.

Her hair had been dyed chestnut for the occasion, and the short simple cut framed her face. And her makeup could only be described as en pointe. A group of temporary tattoos of the soft pink flowers decorated one eye. Both eyes were bubblegum pink ringed with blue. She looked incredible and I wished I had the chance to know who designed her outfit.

"And without further ado, let's reap the tributes for this year! Let's start with...the boy." she was a reserved person, but still gave off an aura of enthusiasm. It was almost respectable. She fished around in a glass bowl for a slip and produced it with a flourish. "Garrett Oriole! Could you come to the stage?"

...Not like I had a choice.

I didn't think it was possible to tank my good mood. I seemed to be wrong for thinking that. I barely felt anything with the exception of a lot of regret with the thought of Bronx.

Miss Konohana held a hand out to me to help me up the stairs, as if she could anticipate how shaky I was feeling. She probably could, since she had done this before enough.

"How do you see out of that mop of hair?" she wondered softly forgetting she had a microphone next to her mouth projecting every word she said. "No worries, you've got potential." She turned and made her way to the other bowl. I was going into the Hunger Games. I just got Reaped. What the-

"And our girl for this year is Tessa Armaros! Would you make your way to the stage?" A meek girl a year or two younger than me seemed to shrink as she came to the stage. Her dark hair was piled into a bun on her head, and two bangles framed her face. She smoothed her skirt shakily before hesitantly coming up the stairs. "Oh you're quite pretty. Chin up, dear!"

Miss Konohana turned her attention back to the awkward tension hanging in the plaza, almost oblivious to it. "District 8, your tributes for this year!" There was a halfhearted applause. District 8 really doesn't have winning tributes, after all. Within a moment of that applause, Peacekeepers whisked us away. The Peacekeeper leading me along didn't seem to be in a very good mood and shoved me into a closet of a room in the station house. It was so dusty I sneezed at least a dozen times before the door opened again.

"Honey!" my mom rushed forward and hugged me. She was already crying. Why wasn't I? Maybe it just hadn't sunk in yet.

"Mom…" I awkwardly sneezed after saying her name. My throat was sore and my nose was running. This dust allergy sucks.

"You've got to come home. You are all I have." she whispered. _I know, I know._

She didn't have anything more to say. She just cried and didn't let go until the door opened again and she was escorted out.

I was a little disappointed Bronx hadn't made it, but he probably wasn't allowed, or didn't realize what was going on. _Poor kid. He'll learn someday, sooner rather than later._

Miss Konohana held a hand grandly towards the train. "After you, dear."

I stepped off the platform and onto the sleek train that would take me to the fight of my life.


	6. D9&11 Reapings: Morceaux

_**Districts 9 and 11 Reapings: Morceaux**_

-Nora Baumgartner, 15, D9-

The air was charged that day. I could feel it when I woke up. I knew that everyone I would talk to wouldn't be able to sit still.

If only it was because of a delivery of food, or a makeshift concert by some of the District's musicians, or the celebration of the mayor's birthday.

I always loved when the District came together in celebration. The air became charged with excitement, positive energy. People would smile at us and greet us as we were walking to the Square. Young men and women held hands and liked to dance together. People smiled and laughed together. People were amiable and made friends.

I laid awake in bed and allowed myself to daydream.

 _The mayor's birthday was last month. There was a huge celebration for it. Not everyone from the District was there like a reaping, of course, but a lot of the wealthy and some, like us, who can put food on the table and have a night off every once in awhile. Every year the celebration's been watered down by the Capitol. Even so, we're still allowed some music, and some food._

 _The violinist was young and beautiful, with dark hair and eyes. She played so easily, the rhythms tapped out by an older gentleman were infectious._

 _"Take your dearest by the hand and give her a twirl!" the man shouted gleefully. My father took the hands of my mother and I and twirled us both around at once all laughing and smiling together._

 _We smiled and laughed and danced the night away._

 _I was walking to the table with the bread on it when I saw Kellon and waved to him. Behind the bread baskets on the table, I noticed, was a little face with a pair of wide, mischievous, dark eyes. Almost black, I remember. They belonged to a toddler that was giggling as he was hiding._

 _I could hear his parents calling, "Beowulf!" as he giggled and toddled out from his hiding spot, the happy noise crescendoing in volume as his father swept him off his feet, saying, "Got you, you little rascal!" which caused another whirlwind of giggles._

 _The energy was so high, everyone was smiling. Wes was there too, they showed me one of their newest sketches, of the lady with the violin. It was quite good, really. Wes was just really good._

 _Even Emilia danced. Emilia didn't like to take risks like the rest of us did, and didn't get into trouble nearly as much. That was fine with us, we never wanted to pressure anyone._

My mother's face poked through the doorway just then. "Nora?" Mama's eyes held an expression of sadness in them.

No, the energy that was here today was negative. It was nervous, anxious, sad. It was reaping day.

I got out of bed and put on a blue shirt with capped sleeves that matches my eyes and a jumper over it. Then, after doing my best to tame my fine, choppy, short blonde hair, I cover it with a cloche, almost as trademark as a Nora Baumgartner smile.

I went out to the room we use as a kitchen. It's dim and dusty and has a wooden table in the center with three chairs. This morning, there was food by each of the chairs, pieces of bread with raisins in it.

"Get some food, Nora." Dad's usually cheery disposition was toned way down. The usually calm and happy energy of the room had been replaced by a dreary, somber, anxious energy.

I didn't like it, not at all.

Mom hugged me around the shoulders from behind on my chair. She didn't usually talk much but I knew she cared for me from her actions. My father, however, is almost never silent.

I sighed, breaking the negative, nervous silence the best way I knew how: a joke. "You're acting like you're at my funeral. Should I say my own elegy? Nora Baumgartener. Nora was a hero. She was beautiful, courageous, and perfect, of course. She never did anything wrong. Ever." That got my father to laugh. I smiled proudly.

"You're right, Nora. You're still young. Your name's not in there a lot."

"Exactly." I smiled and nodded, satisfied. I finished the bread and dusted off the tiny plate. "Can I go see my crew?" I ask, smiling sweetly.

"Not without a hug and kiss goodbye!" Dad got up and did just that, hugging me and kissing the top of my head. "Bye Nora. Good luck, duck."

I giggled. "Bye." I hugged my mother and kissed her cheek, saying goodbye to her too.

"Now, don't get into too much trouble!" Dad said, his eyes alight with humor. Dad never got actually angry when we got into trouble. Most of the time, he ended up laughing with us. He was definitely, in the words of Kellon, "The cool parent."

I left the house and started to the usual meeting place of my friends. It was easy to find, and away from the crowds, which we all needed.

Kellon was already there when I arrived. His brown eyes held all the positive energy he had, which I really needed. It was much easier to be optimistic when someone else was smiling with you.

"Morning Gart," Kellon said, giving me a cheeky grin.

"Watch it, Robbins," I warned. We both ended up laughing though.

"Have you seen Wes at all?" he asked, to which I shook my head.

"They live across the way from you, not me." He sighed, but I just grinned at him. "Watch out, Kel. Your pan is showing."

He blushed bright red and muttered something about how he never should have told me about that. I just laughed and raised my eyebrows at him. The message was clear: he wouldn't have had to tell me about it for me to have known. He knew it as well as I did.

"They gave me a drawing yesterday. It's my silhouette through my window last night." He unfolded a piece of paper with a quick drawing on it. Wes's style was more impressive than anything I could've ever done. They were truly an artist. I admired them for their creative spirit and vision. They always want to design flags for us when we find new places to mark our territory, but we're in District 9, where extra paper and colored pencils an unheard of luxury.

Kellon and I thumb-wrestled until Wes showed up, their short hair in a small ponytail fanning from the back of their neck. Their freckles showed, their eyes were bright.

"Good morning," they said cheerfully. Seeing my friends' smiling faces had lifted an amazing weight off of my shoulders. Just by seeing them I felt energized. I knew that together, there was nothing we couldn't face.

Corilee showed up next, squeezing Kellon's sides and causing him to squeak, Wes giggling.

Corilee grinned at me over Kel's shoulder, and I grinned back.

"Hey there!" she said.

"Hi Lee!" I greeted cheerfully."How're you?"

She darkened, expression falling. For a second, the energy changed to that miserable, anxious negativeness that I hated.

"I've been better," she finally said, deflated.

We stood in that dark silence, until Kel spoke up again, brightening up and recharging the energy into positive again.

"Well, we can go exploring this afternoon! No school!" he beamed.

"No school!" It was easier to smile when you weren't alone in the action.

"First, though, this shit show," said Corilee, who was the baby of the group and also had the dirtiest mouth all at once.

"Right." We gave into the low, heavy, lingering cloud of misery as we all started to the Square, all holding hands. Kellon held my left hand, Wes my right. Having them there, I knew it would all be just fine no matter what happened.

We had to let go to be checked in, and after that, lingered. I gave Kellon a long, tight hug, and then Wes, before we separated to go to our own sections. I took Emilia's hand, as Corilee walked to the 14's section and I walked with Emilia to the 15's. I looked around, getting excited again, for a friend that we had met a couple years ago at the reaping. I noticed her by her long blonde hair that went all the way down to her waist, and Emilia and I ran over to greet her.

"Tessie!" I smiled and let go of Emilia's hand to give her a hug when she opened her arms to me.

"Hi Nora," she said. She had a quiet voice, and was very quiet and withdrawn even though she was sweet. She had no friends where she lived, about an hour's walk away in the opposite direction of us from the District, but we became close friends and now spent every reaping we could together.

"Hi Tessie," Emilia said, hugging her next as Tessie greeted her quietly.

Tessie stood in the middle of us, I held one of her hands and Emilia held the other. It wasn't very long before Adriano Wheatley (yes, he changed his name to "fit in" to District 9) walked onto the stage.

"Welcome, District 9, to the reaping for the 27th annual Hunger Games!" he smiled at us, his teeth perfectly white and straight, framed by his bright red, almost blood-colored lips. I shifted uncomfortably, causing Tessie to look over, her brown eyes wide with concern.

"I'm okay," I said quietly, just as Adriano started to walk over to the bowl for girls.

He reached a hand in the bowl, and picked out a name. Walking back over to the microphone, he cleared his throat, obviously stalling. I tried to escape, daydream, think of the places we'd go after the reaping, but the tension was too strong for me to run away, reality was sinking in-

"Nora Baumgartener!" I felt like I've been hit in the gut, the air being pushed right out of me.

I started to walk to the stage, not sure what to feel. I wasn't really sure what exactly what was happening. I felt eyes on me, following my every step.

Suddenly, I heard a loud shout, fizzling into sobs from my mother. As I started up the first step, she kept shouting, and my eyes started to fill with tears. By the time I reached Adriano, I was full-on crying, practically sobbing as he walked to the dish for boys and picked out a name.

"Scott Granger!" he announced. A boy stepped out from the 16-year-old section. Seeing him, I accidentally locked eyes with Kellon, bring on another round of sobs. When he came on stage he held his hand out towards Adriano who hesitantly took his hand into a handshake. Scott shook his head and gestured to the microphone. The boy spoke once the microphone was close enough to his face.

"It's Scotty G. Just so you know. Not Scott. Not Scotty. Scotty G." There was an awkward silence and I even forgot my misery for a moment due to the sheer audacity of what he was doing. He didn't seem fazed by any of what was going on. Adriano snapped out of his confusion and nudged Scotty G towards me.

"Shake hands now," he said faintly. I shook my District partner's hand, trying to control my sobs, as they were being picked up by the microphone and broadcast across the entire District, the whole nation. But I couldn't do anything to stop them.

"Everyone, your tributes, Nora Baumgartener and Scotty G!"

I was going into the Games.

I was going to die.

~.~.

-Dmitri Cairn, 16, D11-

"Dmitri, Dmitri, Dmitri, Dmitri, Dmitri!" The persistent voice calling my name belonging to one of my little sisters was something I thought I could ignore; maybe roll over and pretend it didn't exist for another 10 minutes.

"Oof!" I felt a solid weight drop onto my stomach and knock air out of my lungs….and I had been completely and utterly proven wrong.

I opened my eyes to sunlight and two concerned pairs of eyes. "Dmitri, if you don't hurry you won't get any breakfast!"

"I don't need breakfast, you guys do…" I groaned hoarsely. Anya's face twisted into a pout. She had been the one calling me, but Elena was the one to divebomb into my stomach.

"Kali says she doesn't care what you think, Dmitri," Anya declared.

"Yeah, she says you gotta eat!" Elena exclaimed. She looked much brighter than Anya.

"But-"

"You gotta!" they chorused.

So much for that hope.

I plucked Elena off me, who squealed with excitement and set her down next to Anya, whose eyes had gone wide.

"Dmitri are we gonna be as big as you someday?" she wondered.

"No, but maybe you'll be as tall as me. Who knows?" I yawned. The twins were both six years old, and full of more energy than me, my older sister, and my younger brother put together. "Now shoo, I need to get dressed since today's going to be a special day."

"W-wait are you going to look all nice?" Elena gasped, clearly getting more excited.

"You'll have to wait and see. Go tell Kali I'm coming, alright?" Elena nodded and shot off towards the kitchen. Anya gave me a sharp look- "you better not go back to sleep"-and trotted off after her sister.

I dug through the bins my brother Yasen and I shared. He was 13, and unlike me at that age, was still fairly small and hadn't really been scathed by puberty yet. Luckily that meant that it was pretty hard to mix our clothes up. I found my only nice cotton shirt buried at the bottom of a the bin on the very bottom of the stack. It was wrinkled beyond belief but I couldn't care less, it was presentable enough. It took a few minutes after slipping the shirt on to stack the bins neatly enough so that Yasen wouldn't complain about not being able to get to his futon.

The moment I opened my door, Elena was standing with her head tilted the whole way up so she could look me in the eye. "Oh my gosh Dmitri you look so fancy!" she squeaked. Her wispy ginger hair had just been trimmed this morning, and a little bit had been pulled into a high, short ponytail...if it could even be called that. It was pretty short after all.

I picked her up and hoisted her up to sit on my shoulders. She was so short she didn't even have to duck to avoid hitting her head off the ceiling. She wrapped her arms around the top of my head for security and I walked to the kitchen.

The moment I walked in, Kalina spun with a scowl on her face. Her spin was so tight that the ties of her apron were still catching up with her moving when she spoke, "Dmitri, it's Reaping Day, do you really think you can get away with sleeping in, and not eating anything?"

I set Elena down next to Anya who picked at a sunny-side up egg. Yasen sat across from her, his short, almost bright orange hair cut fairly short to his head. In fact, all of us had red hair in some sense of the word. I would be inclined to compare to our parents and try to apply those genetics things we learned about in school, but they've been dead awhile now. Kali and I took care of things, for the most part, and it worked out alright enough.

"Come on, answer me," she growled, aggressively grilling up the last egg for herself.

"Erm...yeah. You all need it more." I took a bite and tensed, ready for a scalding.

"Dmitri, I don't care what you think about everyone else needing it more. You're eating," she declared, "and you're not skipping another meal. You need every bit you can get." The moment she turned and her egg fizzed and crackled loudly enough in the pan, I let go of the breath I had been holding. Kali was in a better mood than I thought she would be, considering it was Reaping Day.

I couldn't even begin to fathom what would happen if I were reaped. Only Yasen and I were eligible for the 27th Reapings, but it was still hard to grasp. The Reapings had been going on longer than my entire family had been alive and then some.

"Get out the door you two," Kali sat down with her egg and gestured gruffly at Yasen. "You don't want to be late." she softened marginally. If our table were bigger, she wouldn't have had to kick us out earlier than need be. But the chances of us getting a bigger table were low. Not with us struggling enough to feed everyone.

I steered Yasen with a hand on the back to the door. "Bye Dmitri!" Anya cheerily called. Elena waved equally enthusiastically. I dreaded the day I had to explain to them about the Reapings.

I waved as I closed the front door, as best I could. It didn't quite fit the doorway but it was good enough. Yasen glanced up at me moodily. He was usually a little more conversational, but the Reapings still made him too nervous to speak. He was only 13 after all.

It was a surprisingly chilly morning. The dew stuck to the soles of our worn shoes. I knew Yasen's would be good for another month, as well as Kali and Anya's, but Elena's were starting to give. I forgot to tell Kali to start inquiring to the tailor for Anya and Yasen so we could start saving-

"Good luck, bro." With that, Yasen swallowed and split away from me to get his finger pricked by a bored-looking Peacekeeper who ran out of fingers to prick for only a moment.

I hated getting my finger pricked. I hated needles. That burning stabbing feeling and the throb afterwards made me feel so tense.

"Name?"

"Dmitri Cairn."

"How are you today?"

My eyes snapped up to the Peacekeeper. She met my gaze with patient eyes and a small smile. I was so shocked I forgot about being tense about needles.

"Um...good. Fine. How...about you?" I awkwardly stammered.

"I'm well. Enjoying the cool weather? How's your family today?" She effortlessly picked up the conversation while flipping for my name and filling out the appropriate blanks.

"Fine. Most of them are still home today luckily. But my brother Yasen is at the Plaza here with me. He's only 13. I'm sure he's scared stiff, even if he doesn't say a word to anyone-SHIT!" I gasped.

"Sorry!" she apologized, with genuine sympathy and dabbed at my pricked finger with a tissue. "You can keep the tissue."

"Th...thanks…" I still couldn't believe she noticed I was tense about the needle and distracted me precisely so she could stick me with the damn thing in a timely manner. I knew there had to be a good reason a Peacekeeper would talk to me without threatening me. I should have known better.

I sat at the highest bleacher on the edge so I didn't obstruct anyone's view. With Elena and Anya being so small, I had become aware of how annoying my height could be. I also knew that only the latest person that slept in obnoxiously late would sit next to me. I'm not really sure why, but that's how it always was. This was my last Reaping, so I didn't need to worry too much about it anyway.

The escort this year was Tuscan Nieth, a willowy man with too much elegance to be escorting for District 11. Every step he took firmly planted his heel to the ground first with confidence. It looked a little ridiculous, to say the least.

"Good morning District 11!" he cheered. He was new here. He would learn soon that no one would meet his enthusiasm. "Let's watch our annual history video, shall we?"

The volume was so loud it blew the speakers out every few seconds. I couldn't remember the previous year being so bad. You could barely understand what the narrator was saying, even if you wanted to.

"What a lovely creation! It's due to be updated next year, I'm sure you all can't wait to see it!" Tuscan purred. He paused for a crowd response and predictably didn't get one. Without skipping another precious beat, he jumped back into action. "Well let's get onto picking this year's tributes then, shall we?" He strolled over to the right bowl, the one that always held the names of the males. I seethed when I noticed how his perfectly tailored suit pants hung over his ankles just barely not touching the ground. They were designed so they never would, of course. Those pant legs were perfectly tailored in a way that mine never would for the rest of my life, unless one of my siblings took up the needle and got particularly skillful with it.

Tuscan drew a name without even fishing around in the bowl. He plunged deep and true, as if he knew with conviction what slip he wanted. He unfolded the slip. "Dmitri Cairn!" My body acted while my mind remained frozen where my seat was. I was walking up to the stage, calmly, my face a mask. What was I doing? I felt like a puppet, like someone else was moving my legs at a steady pace.

Tuscan held a hand out to me to help me up the stairs. Whoever was operating my body took it firmly. "We certainly have a fine boy this year, ladies and gentlemen!" I stood where he let go of my hand, facing out at the crowd through eyes I wasn't sure if I had control over. The crowd stared impassively back. It's hard to feel bad for someone who looks like a man full-grown. In my peripheral, Tuscan strode to the other bowl.

"Our female tribute… Cecily Jarvis!"

All was silent, no girls stepping forward, until a 12-year-old in the back started screaming and sobbing. She ran up to the stage, her head down, staring at the ground, releasing sobs.

The wide-eyed girl looked wholly terrified in front of me. I felt like I was shaking hands with one of my tiny sisters. Why was she, out of everyone, chosen? Better her now than the twins later. It had been a young girl from here for three years now, though. Maybe they would make the lottery less "random" to keep things interesting. Maybe that would keep the twins safe.

I shook Cecily's hand. Her tiny hand was barely half the size of mine. It shook so badly I squeezed it to try to make her feel a little better. As soon as we let go, screaming erupted from the male's section, accompanied by two powerful voices on the other side.

"District 11, your tributes!"

The puppetmaster forcing me to take every step towards the courthouse made my steps even, my face a mask impossible to get through. I only wished they would let go when...when…

I can't believe this is really happening to me.

The first person to burst through the door is Kalina.

"You!" she huffed tears in her eyes. "Dmitri, you are coming back to me. You aren't leaving me alone to take care of our siblings." She threw her arms around my neck and I had never felt as much relief as I did when I was able to wrap my arms around her dangerously thin waist. "I can't do it without you, brother."

"I-I'll make it home for you. For them. Are they coming?" A Peacekeeper with disdain written all over his body language nudged Yasen, Anya, and Elena through the door with the butt of his rifle. The twins joined Kalina and turned this whole thing into a group hug. Yasen hung back warily. He's never been one for physical contact.

"Dmitri, when will you be back?"

"Dmitri, where are you going? Why are you so sad?"

"Dmitri, we're gonna miss you…"

"Dmitri you've gotta make it back!"

I breathed in their scents and shook slightly, the rigidity in my body slipping ever so slightly. If it slipped anymore I didn't think I could stand.

"Let's goooo." The Peacekeeper's muffled voice couldn't have sounded more bored.

I kissed each of the girls' heads. "Yasen. I need you to keep it together. I need you to keep the twins safe."

He nodded. His eyes were steel. I couldn't tell if he blamed me for getting Reaped or not. "Good luck, brother."

And then they were gone. Elena was the only one who looked back with lingering, honey eyes. She didn't understand. She wouldn't for a long while.

And the puppetmaster snatched the reins from me once more. It was like my veins were filled with ice. They marched me to the train. They didn't stop when the blistering air met the cool, air-conditioned, controlled condition inside the train where hell awaited. Hopefully they wouldn't stop until they got me home.

 _ **A/N: Another chapter! Reviews are much appreciated! Sorry for the delay, as school's been kind of hectic. But hey, only one more reaping chapter after this! And it's gonna be a good one~**_


	7. D10&12 Reapings: Snow Is Dancing

_**Districts 10 and 12 Reapings: Snow is Dancing**_

-Koda Emory, 15, D10-

"Catch me if you can, Koda!" Moki ran down the dirt trail, his feet thundering as he ran ahead of me. He kept looking behind his shoulder, trying to gauge when I might catch him, which slowed him down dramatically.

Besides, those playful foot races weren't as fun if you were in the front, we had decided earlier, because then you couldn't see the other person.

Really, there was no reason I should have been able to catch Moki: he was like a kit, so fast and full of energy. I was a good runner, but there was no way I should have been able to catch up to him. Moki was _fast_. When I would be in the front for our races, it would only take about five seconds for him to be able to grab my shoulder. It didn't help that, even though he was a year younger than I was, he was also four or five inches taller.

We may've looked like an odd couple, with him being tall with toned muscles and skinny, and me being short and not even remotely toned. The one thing that connected us was our identical brown skin, black hair, and brown eyes, qualities shared by most everyone in the tribe. Mixed race babies were a rarity in the tribe, and often treated so poorly their family left in favor of living in the District. The separation between them and us is something that all of us have been raised to respect and keep in place. It really just made things run more smoothly.

"You got me!" he said, laughing. I was panting, breathing heavy, practically sweating with the effort, while he was grinning and composed, not even having broken a sweat.

"I did," I panted. Hey, it was hard to run after him with short little legs! I had a lot of extra distance to cover.

Moki just laughed and ruffled my hair. In that action, he successfully ruffled up the shaggy mess of thickness, completely eliminated my side part, and brushed off the feather I had been wearing behind my ear.

"Hey! I worked hard on that!" I squeaked, but as always, Moki wasn't fooled by my whining, and I couldn't hold back my grin as I bent down to look for the feather, realizing the wind carried it away. It was just a normal day. It was just a normal morning.

And it was. It was still a weekday, and in the afternoon I would still have classes. I would still spend the morning with Moki, running around the open expanse of fields owned by the Tribe. It was a day just like any other, really. We didn't get out of work or school just because of the ceremony that would be happening. Life would go on, just as always. We would watch the reaping, then come back to the reservation, and get on with our lives. We would have the tiny televisions we were required to have on for as little time as possible, on as little volume as possible. My mother would show me how to keep up the house, how to dust and wash clothes and do my part. My father would come home and ask Mother how I was doing, she would say "they were great," and my father would lift me on his shoulder.

I'd visit my grandfather in his little hut, just a minute's walk away from mine. He would show me how to make something new out of clay, or maybe we would just make beads. On my walk back from Grandpa's, I'd stop by the glass-blowing fire and watch them at work. I'd always wanted to do what they did. After that, I'd go home. Mom would tell me a bedtime story and kiss my forehead, and I'd go to sleep. Life would go back to how it had always been.

Moki took a seat on a rock, and I sat next to him, vowing to look for another feather to replace the one that had flown away.

"Are you worried?" I asked him.

My best friend put an arm around me. "Yeah. Kind of." I snuggled into Moki's side gratefully. I was a year older than him, but so small I fit perfectly against him.

We'd always been like that. Ever since we were kids, we were practically attached at the hip. We'd always held hands, and hugged, and cuddled. Everyone had been saying that we would grow up and get married or something. But we weren't dating. We were just friends, all affection between us was totally platonic. I mean, he was 14, and I was 15. It wasn't like we wouldn't have a lot of time to figure it out.

He held me close, and I closed my eyes. All that mattered was his warmth, his scent.

It was all so familiar to me. There hadn't been a day of my life I could remember that I hadn't seen him. Even on our busiest days, we always took at least a minute to meet, even if we just met, said hi, and left. Even if we just saw each other walking past us on the street, letting go of our parents' hands and exchanging a tight hug before racing back to our parents, who had kept walking with the knowledge that we would come back to them.

"Besides, it's been ten years or so since the last tribe child was reaped. It doesn't happen often at all. We're a small, small group compared to the outside."

"That's true." His words always calmed me down, at least a little bit.

The truth was that we were all so very small, in the scheme of things. A couple of kids in a world we as humans were still struggling to understand completely. We would probably never know how everything in the world worked and why. In the scheme of things, we were so incredibly small.

"No need to worry then," he said, brushing bangs out of my eyes. "None at all."

"You're right Moki. Thanks."

"Any time you need it." He didn't stop stroking my hair, brushing it behind my ear and out of my eyes. It didn't matter if my bottomside was sore as heck by sitting on the jagged rock, or if the summer sun was beating down on me. All that mattered was that I was well-loved. Even though I was small in the big scheme of things, I still had purpose. When I got older, I would contribute something for the welfare of the tribe.

Of course I knew I still had a lot to learn, but each coming year I became prouder and prouder of who I was becoming, and with that, more and more excited to keep growing. Every year I learned more about who I was, what I believed in, and what I held close. Friends had come and gone, but Moki had stayed by my side with a loyalty I could never copy. I grew and changed, and I knew that it was a long road ahead of growth before I could be considered mature.

I was just thankful to my mother for letting me enjoy my youth while it was here. There was a certain respect she had for me as her child, even though I wasn't mature enough to be considered an adult. And, for that, I would have never dreamed of disobeying or disrespecting her. She realized I still had to learn to keep up the house, as well as learning to work, but she didn't keep me inside all day. And, of course, I knew there was a time when work and family would come before adventure, but that day was still at least a couple of years away.

Then there was my father. He was a sculptor, and crafted dishes and silverware and plates, as well as statues and works of art. He was a man with vision, a vision that had taken years upon years for him to develop. When he took me to work with him, I hung on his every word. He let me use some clay to sculpt things, mostly spoons and sometimes bowls if he had a lot of excess. He always said that practice made perfect. He didn't try to stifle me either. If there was no demand for pottery, he would let me make whatever I wanted. These creations often weren't great, but he always said they got better each time. I wanted to use my creativity and follow in his footsteps.

Even after working beside my father, I still had an urge to create. I wanted to put my hands to work. That's one of the reasons I loved visiting my grandfather.

When I visited, he would always give me some of his broth, and sit down and tell me something new, something about the tribe, about history, maybe something about the plants around his house, or maybe something about our family. I especially loved it when he told me things about my grandmother. She had passed away when I was young, so I only had fuzzy memories of her, but I knew she was here watching over and protecting her family.

After he told me something new, he would give me some clay and tell me to make something. My favorite things to make at his house were beads, all of which I had on a twine cord wrapped around my neck. At the very center of the necklace was a little glass globe with an interesting mushroom I'd found inside. He'd gotten me the globe for my tenth birthday, and every year on the day I would go out and search for something new and exciting to put in it. On either side of the necklace were beads. I made all of them except for one, which was made for me by Moki and exchanged with one that I had made for him. I wore his bead with pride. Though his style and mine were very different, we were still inseparable. I wouldn't have had him any other way.

Moki and I sat like that for a while before he spoke up again. "Want to go on a flower hunt?"

"Yeah, sure!" I loved looking for flowers. Even if our hunts were wildly unsuccessful, we still had fun. I stood up, my bottom complaining from where it had been sitting, and together we walked into some of the deeper foliage.

"I found a dandelion!" Moki said.

"Those are weeds," I said, looking up.

"Well, they're pretty weeds." He picked it up. "Look, I'm going to make a wish on it." He looked off at the bright blue sky for a while, deciding what to wish for. His round brown eyes lit up as he decided on a wish, before they slid closed and he blew the seeds off, sending them away with the wind.

"What did you wish for?" I asked.

He grinned at me. "If I told you, I'd jinx it and it wouldn't come true!"

"Alright, alright, that's true."

"There's another good one over there if you want to make one!" he said, walking through the grass to retrieve it. He skipped back, his tiny ponytail bouncing as he held it out to me. "For you."

"Why thank you. What a proper… Gentle-demi-man? Demigentleman?"

Moki bursted out laughing, taking my shoulders and pulling me to the ground with him as he went down. Everyone our age knew that if you made Moki laugh hard enough, his legs would collapse and he'd fall. It just made me laugh even harder, really. We'd so often ended up sprawled out on the ground, recovering from laughing and staring at the sky up above. That's how we were now.

The clouds were white and fluffy and drifted lazily. The sun was shining, and there was the gentlest breeze on our faces. When I looked over, he was giving me a grin, sprawled out across the ground and catching his breath. My cheeks hurt from smiling, but it was a welcome ache. Certainly familiar.

"So much for the dandelion," I said, seeing as it had lost all its seeds in the fall.

"There are plenty of dandelions," Moki said. I felt a warm touch as Moki wrapped his hand around mine. "And plenty of time to make wishes on all of them."

"True."

We laid there for a while, just enjoying the warmth, enjoying the day, enjoying being together while we still could. Finally, Moki got up. "I'll find you another one," he said decidedly, walking away and looking for another one. I just sat on the ground and watched him for a second before I got to my feet. It didn't take very long for Moki to find me another one he deemed fit for wishing.

 _What should I wish for?_ I thought, quietly to myself, of course. I closed my eyes. _I wish that Moki and I stay together forever. I wish for us to grow old together and never lose our sense of adventure._ I took a big breath and released it all in a stream of air, watching the seeds fly away.

"Well? What did you wish for?" Moki looked hopeful.

"I can't tell you!" I said, laughing.

"How about we tell each other? That cancels it out."

I laughed a little bit. "Alright. What did you wish for?"

"I wished for us to never be apart."

I blinked at him. "We think alike then, because that's what I wished too."

He grinned. "Good." Then, he reached out and grabbed my hand. "C'mon, Koda. Let's get home and dressed for the reaping."

Together, we walked back to the more populated part of the reservation, exchanging a hug before we separated to our respective huts.

"Hey Little Bird," my mother ruffled my hair when I entered. "How was your morning?"

"A lot of fun!" I said, a sunny grin spreading across my lips.

"And how's he?" She knew who I spent all my time with.

"He's good!" I said, smiling.

"Your clothes are out at the front of your closet, dear," she said, giving me a kiss on the top of the head. "Also, you have some dirt on your face." She held my chin, using her thumbs to wipe away the smudge from my cheeks and nose. It was more common to see me with dirt on my face than not, but for today it was proper to be clean.

"Thanks Mom." I smiled and went to the area designated as my space.

Little Bird was what my family called me. The nickname came from my grandmother, who, on her way to see my mother when she was in labor, had seen a little canary in her path, and stopped to give it a piece of bread before hurrying to see my mother give birth. She was the first to call me Little Bird, but ever since the nickname was adopted by my parents and grandfather. Moki, his brother, and his parents even call me Little Bird sometimes; they were close enough to be considered family.

I looked in my little closet, where two possible outfits were put out before me. My mother and father worked hard so that I could have a choice. They understood and respected the fact that I wasn't fully masculine, and not fully feminine either. They understood my identity and respected it, which only made me respect them even more than I already did. I put on the dress shirt and buttoned it up before tying the tie around my neck. I got to choose if I wanted to wear pants or a skirt.

I decided to wear the skirt, stepping into the silky garment and feeling cute. I was just tucking my shirt in when my mother called, "Koda!"

"Yeah Mom?" I slid into a pair of flat dress shoes and went quickly to meet her.

"I have something else for you, Little Bird." She opened my hand and put something in it.

"It's a hair clip," she said. "See? It's a little bird." Indeed it was. I knew she must have commissioned a craftsman for this, or gone to the District to get it. It was a very special present.

"Thanks Mom!" I said happily, hugging her.

"Let me help you put it on." She took the shaggy bangs out of my eyes and twisted them, using the bird to clip them back. "There you are."

"Thank you," I said again, kissing her cheek.

The door swung open again and my father appeared, his eyes bright. "There they are, my two favorite people!" he picked me up in a hug and spun me, causing me to laugh, before he kissed the top of my mother's head.

"Hi Father!" I said cheerfully. "Do you like my little bird?"

"I think it's perfect."

"Thanks!"

"I think everyone's gathering to get to the reaping," Father said, taking my hand. "We best be on our way." I nodded, and together the three of us met Moki, his parents, and his older brother Nikan in the crowd. Nikan was 19: this was his first year removed from the reapings, and he was glad for that, but still afraid for Moki.

Moki had a new bow in his hair, too, which looked cute. Moki was always picked on for things like that when we went to the District, and I always stood up for him. I was blessed in the fact that I naturally looked genderneutral. My voice wasn't high, wasn't deep either. My face wasn't exactly masculine, nor was it exactly feminine. You could've argued the case that I was a female, or that I was a male. Honestly, nobody knew for sure except for myself and my family, not even Moki. It's none of their business anyways.

I walked to the Square with the Goodhouse family along with my own, the parents chattering and making small-talk about anything but the reaping.

"I like your Bird, Little Bird," Nikan said, to make conversation.

"Oh, thanks!"

"Sure thing," Nikan said, looking as if he would've pat my head if he wouldn't have messed up my hair with the motion.

We reached the Square, and I could feel eyes on me. On us. I swished my skirt nervously as we all said goodbye to our families. My parents didn't crack any kind of emotion as I hugged them. After all, Tribe kids were rarely reaped. I knew I'd see them again within a matter of an hour or so. I'd be going back to class and homework. My parents found Grandfather and helped him away to the section for viewing, the Goodhouses and Nikan following.

I winced as they poked a needle into my hand, but couldn't look away from the scanner that took my information to the computer. It was amazing, the only technology I ever saw was the television we had. Moki and I hugged goodbye and walked to our sections, and suddenly I was alone.

The District kids seemed so scary suddenly, and I could feel their eyes on me. I looked around, hoping to catch the eye of another 15-year-old from the Tribe, but I couldn't see anyone.

I jumped when the speakers boomed with the noise of Ellery Hampton tapping on the microphones. I sighed as the video was shown, and before I knew it, the first name was being drawn.

"Our first tribute… Koda Emory!"

I felt all eyes turn to me, and froze up.

"Koda? Koda Emory?"

I swallowed a lump in my throat, stumbling up to the stage slowly. I realized then that I was going into the Hunger Games, I was going to have to leave my tribe and my home, go somewhere, kill to survive… Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I didn't stop them as I went up the stairs. I squinted in the bright lights that were on me, hearing the sounds of Moki's sobs from the crowd.

I felt like I was alone, for the first time in my entire life. I had never been alone before, I had always had my family or Moki's behind me. I had never been exposed like this, I had never been left without anyone. And suddenly, I'd been tugged away from them.

"Our second tribute… Scout Foster!" I bit my lip to hold in sobs as the second tribute started to the stage. She had a more neutral face, and wore a sundress and a stetson hat accompanied by cowboy boots. When she arrived at the stage, her face was still set in shock.

"Wonderful! Shake hands you two!"

Through the blur of my tears, Scout put her hand out to me sluggishly. Slowly, sadly, I took it and shook it, as if sealing my death contract.

"Everyone, your District 10 tributes, Scout Foster and Koda Emory!"

I knew the Tribe wouldn't have a normal day. They would all go home, close their shutters, and mourn. They would visit my family and the Goodhouses, and make them food.

The Chief would pay my parents a special visit and try to make out a possible cause for this. He'd tell them that sometimes bad things happen. He wouldn't be able to help their grief but he would grieve with them.

The Tribe itself was a family. They would all mourn me, only if they had never known my name until today.

I swallowed a lump in my throat.

The Tribe hadn't ever had a Victor before.

And I certainly wasn't fit to be the first.

~.~.

-Maverick Quinn, 17, D12-

That hot summer night before the Reapings, I dreamt of snow.

I dreamt of the fur-lined jacket I stored under my bed at this time of year.

And I dreamt of my parents.

" _Maverick, I know you're upset-"_

" _Shut up!" I hoarsely screamed. "You don't know anything!"_

" _There's nothing we could do, your parents' will couldn't be found, and in the event of that, the District repossesses the entire estate." The pointy-nosed lawyer wrung his hands apologetically but his beady eyes said otherwise. Every moment here was a moment he wasn't making money elsewhere. "Maverick, please-" He reached out for me._

" _Don't call me Maverick, you scum!" I snarled, yanking my arm out of range for him to touch._

" _For being nine years old you have quite the mouth on you." The lawyer couldn't sound more disdainful as he packed up his papers. "I don't think you grasp what's happening to you, girl."_

" _My parents are never coming back!" I felt hot tears dangerously threatening to spill over, but I refused to let them. That's how this dream always went._

" _More than that. You don't legally own anything, and everything in the estate will be auctioned off by the end of the week. No other family exists, so you're being relocated to an orphanage. Tomorrow." He put on a pair of black gloves and a bowler hat, which he tipped before stepping out the door. "Good day to you, Miss Quinn." When he left, I fell to my knees. The family friends had already left at the conclusion of the announcement that a will was not found to be read. I didn't know what that meant until the lawyer walked out the door._

Silence is defined as the lack of sound, but that's wrong. It's viscous and suffocating, it rings in your ears and worms its way down your throat until breathing becomes a chore. It's the most horrible sound. Every time I have this dream I'm forcefully reminded of that.

 _I walked up the stairs, each creak doing nothing to ease the weight in the air. I zipped up my jacket and shivered. Then I opened the door to my room._

 _The clothes I needed to sort from the last of the laundry Mom did sat on top of the armchair. A recently pressed dress from the last neighborhood party hung in faded baby blue. The snow flurried outside my window overlooking the District. I wrapped myself in the jacket that was way too big for me and cried._

"Wake up, it's Reaping Day, bitch."

In a second I was staring down the sneering prepubescent face of the asshole who woke me. His grubby hand was gripping my shoulder roughly. Normally I would thank him (wait no I wouldn't.) but it was Otis McCarthy. Who proceeded to slap me once he saw my eyes were open. The sting hadn't even begun to fade before my right arm shot out from under my sheet and smashed into his left temple.

He squealed and fell on his ass like the snot-nosed brat he was. "You could show some gratitude! Goddamnit…" he pawed at his face, eyes clenched shut. "I was just waking you up!"

"Get out." I swung my legs off the bed and mustered my best glower. It wasn't hard this early in the morning. Otis scrambled out faster than he could pull his too large pants up to cover his underwear. Gross.

The rest of the room was empty. It figured, since the room was already suffocatingly hot and humid enough to cook eggs on the concrete floor. I fished under my cot for my fur-lined jacket to tie around my waist, despite the heat. I can't give the bastards here a chance to get their grimy fingers on it. Not a single chance. I changed quickly and headed down the hallway to the common room.

"I hope you get Reaped," Otis's best friend Bengal sneered at me, eating something that resembled old jerky. He held a protective arm behind Otis's back, and Otis himself was slumped onto the wooden table shooting splinters into his arms and looking miserable. Par for the course on a late summer morning.

I thought of a comment more biting and indicative of my mood but curbed it. No need to start a fight. "I hope you sunburn your asscrack while listening to the Reaping ceremonial shit since your shirt's too short and your pants are too loose."

His little freckled face sneered in disdain. "Good morning to you too," he said. As if he deserved a nicer response than what I gave.

Luckily everyone else was already out and about. I didn't want to have to deal with Lucy or Delilah today, my patience had already been tried enough. Except…

"You picking on my little man?" Chris's rising voice from the entryway said I'd be in a lot of shit if I didn't think fast. The well over six feet tall excuse for a "child" also living at the orphanage for his last year was like a mama bear to those two little shits. It was a shame, since those two don't seem to know how to be grateful to Chris.

"Chris she punched me this morning!" Otis cried. Chris stormed in, sweat already forming an oily sheen on his broad brow. His hulking physique towered over me. I don't understand how he got to be that size on a fucking orphanage diet, there had to be something up with him, working in the coal mines or not.

"Pardon me for being grouchy this morning," I coolly held my ground and willed the quiver in my knees to be still, "considering what day it is."

His fists tightened at his sides and his eyes narrowed. "That's no excuse, Quinn."

"I'll make you a deal, Chris," I sighed, putting my hands up in defeat, "You can beat the shit out of me for laying a hand on your precious babies after the Reapings. I just want to look nice for once in my life."

For a moment I thought I had won him over. Then his face distorted with anger. "You had your chance. Unlike the rest of us." Instantly my temper flared and I forced it down just as fast.

The peanut gallery made a noise like a choked laugh. How does Chris not notice? "That doesn't matter now. And besides, I would like the time to visit my friends, y'know...just in case I get Reaped." At that he sneered and shoved me roughly towards the door.

"That's funny. You don't have any friends, Quinn. Get out of my sight, you're pathetic." I didn't need to be told twice. I was lucky I was getting out of this scot-free, thank goodness.

Outside it was actually cooler than that oven of an excuse for an orphanage house. I think it was the first year I looked forward to walking to the Reaping. The breeze was almost constant. You could see the maple and pine trees swaying slightly from the force of it.

I don't know what it was but the wind at my back made me feel lighter, freer. It was something that made me feel stronger than I actually was I almost skipped to the Reaping, despite the fact that I wasn't going to talk to anyone because Chris was absolutely right. I stuck to myself for a reason anyway, I didn't need anyone. The only person I can rely on is myself, after all.

"Welcome, step right up!" the peacekeeper that beckoned me over was clearly newer. She had a smile on her face and a warm tone when she asked me for my hand to prick. Must be her first year doing this. I'm amazed the sullen faces around me hadn't worn her down yet.

"I said your left hand, not your right…" at that point I heard the change in her voice. The smile, the voice, the enthusiasm...It was fake. Figures. I don't know why I felt disappointed about it. It was to be expected. How couldn't you be when you had to listen to sobbing and thinly veiled tense conversation for duration of the three-hour check-ins for the Reapings?

"Right, sorry." My polite, higher voice was equally fake. Why do people fake politeness? I couldn't tell you why. It was frustrating as hell that people couldn't be direct with their feelings. Why did we have to pretend this was a positive scenario where we we respected each other when we clearly didn't? Fuck if I know.

My timing was impeccable, as always. Just late enough that once I found a place to sit, the Reapings started. To be fair, I got jostled out of sitting in places a handful of times before I finally sat down though. Chris and Lucy and Delilah and all those miserable excuses for human life were probably here. Or checking in at least. A small line of the late people had formed and were panicking they would be punished for it, except for Chris who wore the same bored expression he always had.

"Citizens of District 12...welcome, welcome. I humbly thank you for coming." The spring in my step that took the edge off my mood abruptly vanished the moment Cinque Formantius started talking.

She always made a point to wear outfits of pure extravagance to remind us who we were. Vermin to squish into cannon fodder under her eight-inch heels. I swear there was a correlation between her lack of confidence in this District, and the ridiculousness of her outfit. This year was a low-neckline two piece dress made out of rabbit feet. _Rabbit feet_. At her neck was a...necklace? Scarf? Round-shaped circle of rabbit fur? That. And when she turned, you could see a rabbit tail pinned onto her ass. And her dress length ended around her ass, too. I had no words, except for that she must be hoping the amount of luck she was wearing would mean the first Victor for District 12 would appear this year. I couldn't listen to that hideous Capitolite drawl or look at her without being compelled to punch myself in the face. I thanked the fucking stars that the stupid video came on quickly.

"War...terrible war…."

Never-fucking-mind that. The video was just as bad as she was. The only other options were to zone out, unfortunately notice the breeze was giving me a view I never wanted of Cinque's ass, and staring at the misery around me. It's not like I'm an artist, I couldn't put the level of misery around me into words or colors or shit if I had the money for supplies to try or the desire to do so. No one wanted to be here on this beautiful day. No one deserved to have to go be this year's bloodbaths. And not one soul wanted to be subjected to Cinque's boney ass like this. This was torture.

"And now to draw our two lucky tributes for this year! Boys first, hmm?" she teetered over to the fishbowl of names on her fucking stilts for shoes and picked a name right off the top. "Glenn Decim!" Internally I cringed.

Glenn came trotting out of the 18-year-old's section smiling like it was his birthday because he was a fucking weirdo. There was no nice way to put it. I had seen him at school, and he's tried talking to me…

Well, everyone will see why people avoid him eventually. I was interested how he would do in the Games…Cinque took his smile enthusiastically. "Oh this year we might have a winner, everyone! Look at that smile!" A wave of nausea slammed into me. I didn't think it was possible to be allergic to a person's voice.

"Alright time for our girl!" I would never understand how she moved so quickly in that outfit and those shoes. "Maverick Quinn!"

Well. Would you fucking look at that.

I didn't think it was possible to feel even colder bitterness than I already did. And with a sick satisfaction I realized I wasn't going to have to worry about Chris beating the shit out of me after this. I strode to the stage aggressively. Cinque's smile looked plastered on her face from the stairs.

"Couldn't dress nice for the Reapings, could you?" she hissed. The nicest thing I had was my jacket, and it being tied around my waist ruined the clean look of my white v-neck shirt and grey slacks that were too small for me. When she grabbed my hand I was immediately assaulted by a smell that could only be associated to roadkill. Someone forgot to cure the skin attached to the rabbit fur that made up her dress correctly, or this is the Capitol's idea of a perfume. It could be either.

"Alright, District 12! We'll see you on the Victory Tour soon!" Cinque held both Glenn's hand and mine high to slightly more than scattered applause and led us back to the Justice Building. Before spiriting us off to separate rooms, Glenn's gaze caught mine warmly. His grey eyes suggested he would want to talk an alliance later.

The Peacekeeper that led me into the cramped room stayed by the door. After about five minutes, they said "Are you expecting anyone to come?"

"No. Parents are dead. No friends."

There was silence. "I'm sorry."

"They've been dead awhile." I didn't want to talk to this Peacekeeper and their pity, but it was better than the roaring silence otherwise. "It's fine."

"I'm still sorry...hey, good luck, okay?" I bit my lip. Hell must have frozen over while I was in this room, because Peacekeepers do not talk to us lowly civilians, much less extend their sympathies.

Another Peacekeeper opened the door to collect me. I never saw the talkative one's face. Within seconds the train door popped open and Cinque's obnoxiously pink nails beckoned me inside.

Well...it's a beautiful day to ride a train for the first time, I suppose.

~.~.

 **A/N: Done with reapings! :D Woo hoo! The next chapters will come quicker now that we're getting the ball rolling! Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated! Also, let us know who are your favorites so far? (AKA which ones do you still remember after all this time between chapters, haha). Thanks for the support! :D**


	8. Interlude: Friends in Arms

**_Interlude: Friends in Arms_**

-Jupiter Tamboli, 19- Victor of the 26th Hunger Games-

"Sure you're not worried about getting alcohol on it?" Nick teased, causing me to sigh.

"I don't go anywhere without Pooka. He's my lucky cat." I take another sip of my virgin pina colada. "Also, I'm not drinking alcohol. You think I'd want to be drunk the first time I meet Dutch Krietzer?!"

My mentoring partner snorted at that. "Sometimes I forget he's such a big deal to you young guys." Nick was still pretty young, not even thirty years old yet, and won exactly ten years before me.

Honestly, I was glad he was my mentoring partner for my first year at the job. Of all of District 2's Victors, he was probably the best choice.

Talon Davenport, Victor of the Eighth Games, was nice enough and also enjoyed cats, but he was often drunk off his ass, not to mention his constant innuendoes and his insurmountable sex drive.

Lina Pastore, the 19th Victor, wasn't all too bad. She just wasn't all that nice. Nick says she thought that she could just become a hermit after winning the Games and not be bothered by anyone, but was pretty shocked when she couldn't escape the spotlight. She hated the paparazzi, and I was sure that she'd be a tornado in the Capitol, where everyone loved her. I just didn't need that extra stress.

Priam Wyn, Victor of the 24th Games, was just plain savage. I knew he would have sabotaged me, fed me all of the wrong advice and laughed as my tribute crashed and burnt all because of me. And probably made misogynistic comments out the wazoo. No, definitely. Definitely made misogynistic comments out the wazoo.

Overall, Nick was the best choice. It helped that his best friend Dutch was mentoring for District One the same year.

So far, I was lukewarm to being a mentor. The planning, strategies, it all just felt like I was going into the Games all over again, just without the risk of dying.

I was a thrill-seeker that wanted to do good. I wanted the money and fame. I wanted action, I wanted to be the Victor of the most memorable Games ever! Then I was thrown into a frozen hell of an Arena. It was huge, and my allies and the other tributes just fell one by one because they didn't know how to survive like I did. It was one of the most boring and forgettable Games on television.

There's a correct way to do a cold Arena, a pretty winter wonderland small enough that the Careers could pick off the outer District tributes with only one or two dying of the cold. It was an O'Callaghan Arena, it was beautiful and deadly, and the snow was painted crimson one tribute at a time until Marlowe Glaiser won.

Then Floyd fucking Monotone takes over, and I get stuck in the most depressing, expansive winter wasteland with incompetent allies and the most anticlimactic excuse for a "finale" ever. I was still mad about that, he cheated me of a whole new level of fame and glory. I didn't even have one visible scar from the whole thing!

What a dud Games. I wanted to be more than the dud Victor! I will forever hate him and hoped to God this Voleur girl was better than him.

No matter though. After all, today I'd get to meet some of the very people that inspired me! The mentors for the stronger, trained tributes were meeting today at my place to discuss the prospective volunteers.

I didn't visit the Academy very frequently, it just reminded me too much of who I used to be. It took everything in me and almost three months to convince my cousin Hiran that volunteering wasn't worth it. He was far too sweet for the Games anyways.

However, I tried to go more often once I realized I'd have to know the tributes that volunteered. After all, we upper District mentors had an advantage that the lower Districts didn't: we got to know our tributes before the ceremonies began. It would have been horribly dumb of me not to take advantage of that.

Latika was very powerful and intelligent, as well as curt. She kept to herself usually, and was extremely no-nonsense. A very promising tribute, but not the type I would get along very well with. Then there was Jack, who was an absolute powerhouse that had no restraint. If someone messed with him, he had no mercy. Nick practically begged me to take him, which worked out perfectly. Nick was rational, and would help the curt (party pooper) girl shine, and I would do everything I could to rally the Capitol behind the firecracker. After all, I knew it would be easier to tame a wild horse than kick a dead one.

Dutch and his father Platinum were District One's mentors that year, and arrived first. They were friendly with Nick, and I felt overwhelmingly starstruck. Right there, standing in my doorway, was the first second generation Victor and, I don't know, Platinum fucking Krietzer! I couldn't believe it was really happening. I'd looked up to all three of the Victors since I could first hold a sword in my tiny, chubby, baby hands.

The District Four mentors also decided to drop by, claiming they had worthy tributes that would be volunteering. Reyna Noct, victor of the 23rd Games, came swaggering in with more confidence than I had ever seen out of her. She claimed the boy that volunteered, Orpheus, was going to blow us away. I'm not sure I believed her though. The kid had some serious sight issues. I didn't know the extent but… I couldn't underestimate anyone. Salvador Castillion, who won the 17th Games one year after Nick, seemed confident in the girl as well. Valencia, her name was. This would be one of those years when all six of our tributes planned to join the big alliance that outer District tributes have started calling "Careers."

Platinum talked a bit about his tributes. He and Dutch had seen the girl, Cadenza, hard at work training in District 1's largest Academy and spoke highly of her skills and talents. Although, they did mention that District 1 had not yet chosen a male tribute.

Here in the good District, there's only one Academy that really matters. Some other hopefuls that live in more remote areas near the mountains train in their basements, or set up informal "Dojos" with academy dropouts and graduates alike mentoring. It was a good way for those ex-students to make some money, but their students were usually no match for those tributes that trained in the Nate McIalwain Academy For Future Tributes, which was huge and ultra-competitive. District 1 has started building smaller Academies around the areas in some of the poorer parts of the District, and tried to give them equal opportunity to shine, which only extended the process of selection. From what it seemed, Cadenza was a no-brainer, but there were still hopefuls vying for that male spot. The mentors seemed more than confident that District 1 had Victor material, though.

Nick was pretty honest about Latika. There really wasn't much to lie about. Just like her personality, she was a pretty straightforward tribute. However, I wasn't going to give away too much about my firecracker so quickly. I said the simple stuff: he's eighteen years old, determined, and assertive, and left out the things I knew he would want to be a surprise. Ultimately, everyone in this room wanted their tribute to win, and I knew that anything I said now could be used against him later. Nick gave me an approving side-glance just as my phone started to ring.

"Excuse me," I said to the others, disappearing to pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Jupey! Oh thank goodness, I need you right now, man," Conrad Horowitz, Head Interviewer, wheezed, trying to get her breath back.

"Hey, uh, since when was I Jupey?" I really didn't need that stupid nickname sticking. "And what do you want from me?" I couldn't help but be curious about what business Capitolites had with a young Victor like me.

"I need your help. I know we share a mutual enemy and it would be dangerous for me to get anyone else to help with this job." Conrad sounded dead serious.

My interest was peaked and my eyebrows raised at the response. "Go on."

"I need you to meet me at this address ASAP. There isn't much time," he whispered hurriedly, "299 Valehaven Street. Top floor." And with that she hung up, not even giving me a chance to agree or not.

Shit. I thought. I would have to make up an alibi. I went back out to where the other Victors were making small-talk, waiting for me to return.

"Hey guys. So, I've had a change of plans. It's an urgent…." My eyes scoured the room looking for an excuse. "...Cat emergency."

"A what?" Nick didn't buy it for a minute.

"I just have to go!" I said, knowing I would miss the train if I played this game any longer. I left the other Victors in my house and headed to the platform, trying to look as casual as possible. I got on quickly and thanked the Peacekeepers that let me hop on last second. This was important business. The train didn't take long to arrive at the Capitol and let me off, and then I walked to the address Conrad had given me. I was familiar with the apartment complex because I had been there before, with a client on the second floor. Middle-aged woman, pruny skin and stringy hair, not a fun time. Were auctions ever fun though? No. Pooka hated them because he always had to stay home so he wouldn't be subject to the mature content of my evening.

Anyways, top floor. I tried to avoid the stares of the people and headed up the stairs to the top floor as quickly as I could. The moment I stepped through the door I was face to face with Arrietty Voleur and she did not look even remotely happy.

"Jupiter. I need to confirm something with you before we begin." She pushed her glasses up her nose and stared me down. Which was really weird because I was at least a foot and a half taller than her. I felt like I was in some old movie.

"Fire away, ma'am." I was ready. Doing this job had the potential to give me an edge in the Games, and I wanted to be able to give Jack any help I could.

"Do you loathe Floyd Monotone with every fiber of your being?"

"Yes Ma'am," I answered respectfully. It was the cold, desolate, slowly-freezing-to-death truth.

"We need to break into his apartment. This is a matter of life and death, and this will be a rescue mission." she relaxed slightly but still held a tense focus.

"Who is the subject of rescue?" Could it have been some poor child that was kidnapped? Or perhaps a friend of Ari and Conrad's? Or perhaps it was the President himself! Who could it be? Whoever it was, I was ready to help them.

"Her name is Emilia," Arrietty explained, "She's very important to me, and I discovered that she was being held captive recently. I've been tracking Monotone for the last month, he won't be back for another 40 minutes. He always goes and buys a pack of cigarettes and three lottery tickets on Tuesday nights at the convenience store four blocks away. He walks slow, so we have some time but not too much."

"I hear you loud and clear. Just one quick question before we go. Why did you choose to call me?"

Arrietty sighed and averted her gaze for a moment. She bit her lip, then looked back up.

"Conrad's tied up at the moment, but she has connections all over the Capitol. I believe you know Aquitaine Winchester? She's a Gamemaker under me. She also happened to mention at one point how much you detest Floyd Monotone, which makes you a friend to us. After all, we can't just ask people if they hate him. His fans would go crawling back to him and then I would have to deal with him asking me questions."

"Understood. I'll help you rescue Emilia," I said, wishing I had face paint to smear across my cheeks like they did in the movies. Maybe I shouldn't have been so excited about a mission that probably involves breaking and entering and other illegal stuff: with possible rebellious undertones, nonetheless: but I couldn't help it.

"Thank you, Jupiter. Now...I need you to follow me." I expected her to go down the stairs with the loud clacking of the heels she normally wore on every occasion I've seen her, but her steps were soundless. She wasn't even wearing socks. Now that was determination. This Emilia must have been a very important lady.

At the first landing she came to, she whipped out her phone. "Kill the feed now." The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I only then noticed the sweat coalescing at my armpits and my heartbeat loud in my ears. She put the phone back in her hoodie pocket and opened the door, motioning for me to go inside with one hand and putting a finger to her lips with the other. I did my best to be as quiet as she was, but considering I was significantly taller and bulkier than the Capitolite, it wasn't exactly easy.

Jack had better win the stupid Games for this, I thought, as I entered the hallway, prepared to break the door down. Arrietty strode quietly on the balls of her feet to the second door on the right and zipped her jacket up soundlessly. She crouched, and examined the cat door on the otherwise unremarkable door with a gold plate numbered 1234. That's the most boring apartment number I've ever seen, I thought with disdain. I was so disgusted I almost missed the part where Arrietty poked me with a crowbar and gestured to the cat door.

Of course. Why bring last year's Victor with you on this wild job if you had nothing for him to do? Carefully, I tucked the end into the edge of the door, and used all of my strength to pry it open. It was tough, much too tough for a Capitolite, but I had those District 2 guns you couldn't find anywhere else. With enough of my effort, the door gave enough for me to get it open. She dropped to the ground and crawled through. It took me a moment and a tug on the pant leg from her to realize that she wanted me to crawl through, too.

"You expect me to go through there!?" I hissed, but was soon on my hands and knees, starting to try and slide my way through. It was small, too small for someone like me, and halfway through I got stuck. I'd been told I had a big ass before, but this was just ridiculous. You'd better be goddamn grateful for your mentor, Cherenkov, I thought, trying everything I could to push myself through the tiny-ass opening while Arrietty watched. Shouldn't she have been looking for Emilia?

"A little help here?" I whispered irritably. "We can't have Monotone walking back to my ass and legs hanging out of his cat door." Her face snapped to me, a little surprised, then she nodded. Arrietty took my hands in hers and yanked with all the might in her petite frame. One, two, three tugs and my lower half finally squeezed through the opening, and I was able to slide the rest of the way out and make it to my feet. My lower back was not happy about it, though.

"Okay, now we can talk freely. We couldn't make any noise in the hallway because the video feed was looped but not the audio." She abruptly turned and surveyed the apartment. When she turned the corner around the entryway she made a choking noise and started coughing so hard she leaned on the wall for support, as if she were trying not to throw up.

My heart was pounding with adrenaline and nerves as I crossed the drab, generic apartment to join her in the other room. I always knew that Floyd was horrible, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight I would see once I got there.

The walls of the living room were covered with this ugly-ass vomit-green wallpaper and the furniture, shit brown. On each wall was a single painfully drab and average painting. And on the coffee table in front of the TV sat the most beautiful cat I had ever seen.

She had a full, luxuriously long white coat, speckled with generous, thoughtfully placed splotches of black and carmel along her tail, spine, legs, and face. One ear was adorably completely black, and the opposite eye was also splotched in black, framing perfect, curious and vigilant emerald jewels for eyes. Her poise was graceful, befitting of a lady of the court, and her burgundy collar complimented her stance beautifully. By the time she stood, stretched, and uttered a single trill of a mew, I was completely sold, captivated, and won over by this exquisite showcase example of the feline race.

To think that such a cat was living here was an absolute nightmare. We had to save her, Emilia be damned. I could tell Arrietty was just as entranced by the allure of this cat as she hesitantly approached her.

"You find Emilia, I'll take the cat," I said.

For the first time ever, I saw a genuine smile grace Ari's face. "This is Emilia."

"...Oh." Everything became clear. This dear cat needed rescued from this hideous apartment and terrible man. Arrietty scooped up Emilia, who didn't protest. It was almost as if she knew we were rescuing her from the clutches of all that is despicable.

"Let's bail," I said, not wanting to risk being caught. I really didn't need a punishment from the President, after all, and neither did she. We hurried to the door.

"I'll carry Emilia, but I'll need you to come through the cat door again so the door gets locked up how it needs to be." She gestured to the latch that meant we couldn't just both go out the front door without Monotone noticing a disturbance.

"Fine." You're welcome, Cherenkov. She unlatched the door, walked through and ever so carefully closed it, soundlessly. I redid the latch and mentally steeled myself to crawl back through that hellhole one last time. Then, I started through. I wiggled like a bitch, but by some miracle I made it through without requiring her help. We were clear. She nodded in approval at me and started towards the landing. Soon we were back at the top floor in front of room 1201, where I met her originally.

"Thank you for your help, Jupiter. I knew you would be of great aid to this mission." Arrietty adjusted the gorgeous little lady in her arms and smiled cordially.

"Any time, Ma'am. An enemy of Monotone is a friend of mine."

"Isn't that the truth," she snickered. "In any case, you are welcome to contact Conrad and by extension me, at any time. Since now we are friends in arms, after all. I owe you that much for this service."

I gave a nod, still stunned that I wasn't actually lying to the other mentors when I said it was a cat emergency. The others… My house… Shit! I left the cream puffs in the oven!

"I have to go now," I said quickly. "Cream puff emergency."

Arrietty shook her bangs out of her face, still smiling. "Understood. Goodnight, Jupiter Tamboli. Travel home safe."

I turned and briskly walked back to the elevator after that with a quick "Thanks, night!" called over my shoulder.

Now how can I twist story to the guys back home to make it sound legal…?


	9. Train Rides I: Minute Waltz

_**Train Rides I: Minute Waltz**_

-Cadenza Santiago, 18, District 1-

I had dreamed about the day I would finally step on the train to the Capitol for years. But I never could have imagined Cerulean would be there.

After all the years we hadn't spoken,all the years we hadn't seen each other it was honestly surreal to see him volunteer. For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to say. I always have at least something to say, in any social situation. Luckily, Platinum saved me the trouble of coming up with something.

"Welcome to the first step of your journey as tributes." It still hadn't quite sunk in that all my hard work had finally culminated and I was going into the Games. Or that Platinum Krietzer was standing in front of me, for that matter. "How are you two feeling?"

I wasn't sure how honest to be. This wasn't a game anymore. Err...well it was but that didn't make that any less true! "Great!" I blurted out. Oh no. I hoped that didn't come across poorly. I really didn't want Platinum to hate me or dislike me…

"Well, that's good. Keep some of that energy, you're going to need it." Luckily my voice crack didn't seem to bother him. He turned his attention to Cerulean, then exchanged a concerned glance with Dutch.

Cerulean hadn't spoken since we got on the train. He just...avoided eye contact, and his gaze was practically glued to the floor. What was his problem?

"I've got energy to spare." I smiled confidently, but it faded pretty quickly with the overwhelming tension in the room. It wasn't sitting well with me. I didn't think that the train ride was supposed to be so overwhelmingly filled with awkward silence, at least, for Careers…

"Why don't you two get something to eat? You can tell us about yourselves over a nice cup of tea and scones or what have you!" Dasdemonda saved the day, waltzing in from another train car. "You two are so cute! I have high hopes for you, you know." she was cheery in the way that a lot of old people were, even if she didn't seem to want to admit how old she was.

I moved over to the table next to Dutch, and Cerulean wordlessly sat next to Platinum. I was really starting to feel concerned about him...what happened to him since I last saw him?

" _Blue, are you coming over after dinner tonight?" I asked while dumping textbooks and folders into my backpack to cart home. There was always way too much homework. "I know I've got a lot of homework, so I can't do anything 'til then."_

" _Of course!" he responded, animated. "But… There's something... " he paused. "Never mind. It can wait."_

" _Alrighty! See you then!" The bus ride home and mindless pages of math problems and 'critical readings' went by in a blur. I was excited to see Blue! We hadn't hung out for a few days because we were both studying for a big midterm, and worried about Placement Exams for the academies we were hoping to get into for training to be tributes._

 _We both knew there were a ton of people vying for the spots for our year. But that couldn't dissuade us! Together, we were an unstoppable team that could take on the whole world!_

" _Honey, Cerulean's here," Mom called from the kitchen. I was still finishing dinner at the table. We had porkchops, and the seasoning was great! I couldn't wait to get to the point where I could cook like my Mom could. Someday, if the tribute thing didn't work out, or if I came back after the Games, I wanted to become a professional chef. Specifically, a baker. If I could make wedding cakes and cupcakes, I'd be pretty happy with my place in life, I thought. You would get to be a piece of some of the happiest moments of people's lives. Who wouldn't want to see people at their happiest?_

 _I shoved the last bit of pork in my mouth, and rushed my plate to the sink. Before I could retreat from my mother, she turned and glared, sizing me up sternly._

" _Brush your hair before you answer the door, you look like a wreck." She sourly muttered and turned back to the sink to wash dishes._

 _I couldn't look anything but my best for company, after all. I rushed to grab a brush to pull my hair into a messy ponytail and opened the door for Blue. Poor guy had to have been standing there for almost five minutes._

" _Sorry Blue, I had to take care of a few things so I couldn't get the door fast," I apologized._

" _It's okay!" he said, offering a bright smile. "I get that." He seemed to deflate a little bit after that. I wondered what he was going to tell me at school. I supposed he would say it soon, regardless._

" _Let me grab a jacket and we can head out! It's such a clear, warm night; I love spring nights like this," I rambled automatically. Sometimes I felt like my thoughts streamed out of me before I had a chance to stop myself from saying them, but it usually worked out okay. I could hold a conversation with anyone that way._

" _Yeah, it is pretty clear," he said, picking at his fingernails. He was quiet today, usually he was just as energetic and talkative as me. I felt a bubble of anxiety surge and I shoved it right back down. There was no use in worrying._

" _Alright, let's head out!" I slipped on my trusty pair of converse. "We've got stars to gaze at!"_

" _Oh, yeah!" He stepped aside to let me lead the way. Behind my family's house, there was a trail that led to this secluded hill. To get to it was about a half hour's walk. Luckily for us, it was safe to go to since the fence surrounding the district gave us district residents a wide berth for wild land to explore. At least, it did where I lived. In any case, we didn't have to worry about getting mauled by bears or something. Even though we could have_ totally _taken on a bear with the training we'd had already. I really didn't think Blue wanted to find out if we could or not, though._

" _Now that it's warm outside, we can look at the spring stars, y'know!" I said as we walked along the trail._

" _Yeah… I love the springtime." He was trying hard to be his usual self, but it wasn't working._

" _We'll have to mow the path soon though, I can't believe all these little grasses and flowers have already come up! We're going to be knee deep in poison ivy soon if we don't do anything," I laughed. But with Blue not really being in the spirit of things, it came across as pretty halfhearted._

" _Maybe someday we'll actually be able to know what all the plants we see are and what they do," he said thoughtfully._

" _I bet we will! Did you know you can eat dandelions?" I asked. I had recently learned of this and had forgotten to tell Blue about it._

" _Really? What do they taste like?"_

" _They're kinda like a really bitter lettuce, but at the same time, kinda nutty? And there's this earthy flavor that's like dirt but less gross? I dunno, it's hard to describe," I laughed. "That's what the book said, anyway. I took it out of the library a few weeks back."_

" _Here's to hoping neither of us has to find out," he said, some of his typical warmth coming back, "They sound icky."_

" _They do," I agreed. "Oh hey, we're here already!" I took off at a run up the hill with excitement and sat on my rock. It had always been mine, even before Blue and I started coming out here. My grandmother was the one who told me about this place originally. Blue took a seat next to the rock, in the grass, his somber mood becoming more and more prevalent._

" _Alright, today we're looking at bears, Blue!" I lounged against the cool stone, enjoying how refreshing it was to the touch._

" _Oh yeah, we talked about those a bit in school. The… Ursula?"_

" _Yeah, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. Actually it's way easier to see Ursa Major once you find Ursa Minor." I gestured in the general vicinity of the star cluster making up Ursa Minor. "See the four stars in a box-y shape?"_

" _Oh… Yeah. Yeah, I see them."_

" _There's like...a little handle that comes off of it. Kinda like a pan, y'see?"_

 _There's a pause as he squints up at the sky, until he finds it and says, "Oooooh, yeah, I see now."_

" _So here's the fun part. That's an upside-down bear cub."_

" _What."_

 _I burst into laughter at his flat, disbelieving response. "The box part is the body, and the part that sticks out is where his head is."_

 _There's a long pause. "That must take some imagination to see," he said._

" _A long time ago these Greek people put a story to it. But we have to see Ursa Major before we get to that. See the cluster of stars that's way bigger underneath Ursa Minor?"_

" _Hm… Yep. There they are."_

" _That's Ursa Major. A much larger bear. See she used to be this pretty chick named Callisto, but she banged a god, and he was married, and his wife...wasn't happy. So after Callisto had this kid, Arcas, the god's wife turned her into a bear. And later on in life, Arcas was hunting in the woods and the god's wife kinda...nudged him into running into his mom-bear. He was going to shoot her, but the god suddenly realized what was going on and put Callisto in the stars before she could get shot. And uh...her son too? Eventually? As a bear cub? Something like that."_

" _Oh, I see. Yes, that makes total sense," he said in a playfully sarcastic tone._

" _The people back then had pretty active imaginations. I wonder how everyone knew these stories back then. Like...who told them? Did they send letters? Who knows?" I wondered aloud._

" _Maybe. But… Speaking of letters…" I turned to Cerulean. Had he received a letter from someone…?_

" _What's going on, Blue?"_

" _There's… Not an easy way to say this Denz… But… Uh…" he took a deep breath, and when he spoke next his voice was soft and delicate. "My family can't afford to live here anymore… We're going to move."_

" _What? Well...how far are you moving?" I felt my stomach sinking. Blue was my best friend. I wished I could help with his financial situation but there was no way my parents would agree to that…_

" _I don't really know. Far enough that… My parents said I probably won't get to see you, and I won't get to the big-time Academy like we were hoping…"_

" _Oh." I felt like I had been punched. "Well...we can still keep in contact every day! Send letters across town, and maybe meet up on the weekends once a month or so?" I smiled reassuringly. "It's not like we can't be friends anymore!"_

" _Yeah, exactly, we can make it work. I mean… We'll always be looking at the same stars, right?" He smiled weakly._

" _Exactly!" I hugged Blue, just for good measure. "This won't be goodbye. We're best friends after all, we're unstoppable! And we're always connected by the same sky and the same stars."_

 _He hugged me back, his voice once again full of the typical Blue energy. "Yeah! I mean, we're in the same District still, just a little bit farther apart!"_

" _Yeah! And just because you won't be able to go to the 'big-time' Academies doesn't mean you can't volunteer. We'll keep working at it to become the volunteers for our year, we don't have to give up hope!" I broke off the hug before it got too long for comfort._

" _We shouldn't volunteer for the same year, though," he pointed out. "We can both be Victors of different Games. Then we'll live right next door to each other!" I smiled widely in response._

" _Yeah! I just gotta work extra hard so I can win before you." I stuck my tongue out._

" _Fine then," he said, laughing._

That was in junior high, when we were in 7th grade.

At first, it wasn't so bad. The letters came every other day. Blue had a rough time adjusting to a new school at the end of the school year, but things got better with time.

 _Denz, I can't believe it! You saw, right? I got reaped! What are the chances? Now there are people like, trying to talk to me, and trying to be my friend! I'll have to tell you about them in my next letter…_

I was really happy things were going well for him after he got reaped in the 21st Games. But soon after, his letters got shorter and came less often.

 _Hap and I went for ice cream after school today! I had a little extra money from chores, since I babysat next door all last week…._

 _Vent and I tried making omelettes yesterday. I'm pretty sure we smoked Char out of his room, because even though I thought I was pretty mediocre at cooking, Vent is a thousand times worse. If we were at the old house, we would have set off the smoke alarms, hardcore…_

I always sent a letter in response. But...within a year, they had stopped coming at all. Whenever we had tried to meet up, it either didn't work on my end, or it didn't work on Blue's.

We fell out of touch. Of course I had made new friends, but...not like Blue. I spent years looking at the sky and hoping Blue still stared into the endless sea of stars like I did. I hoped that maybe, he still thought of me occasionally.

It got to a point that if I wanted to send a letter to reconnect with him, it would feel weird, and probably kind of creepy. He clearly moved on with his new friends. He probably moved on from me, too.

So there we are. I never thought we were going to talk, much less see each other again. But we were both on a train to the Capitol, and to the Games.

"So…can you talk, Cerulean?" Dutch raised an eyebrow and asked.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just… A little bit overwhelmed." I didn't feel nearly as overwhelmed. Was that normal? I wasn't sure.

"Eh, understandable." Dutch stirred creamer and sugar into his coffee. Weird, he always struck me as a "I take my coffee black as my soul" type. With the amount of sugar he put in, you would think he was baking cookies, not sweetening his coffee.

"Don't worry, it's normal. I was pretty overwhelmed and stressed out too. Have you thought in advance at all for your strategy for anything? Chariots, Interviews, Training?" He turned a worried eye to me. "Either of you?"

"I don't know about Blue, but I'd like a nice, strong Career alliance. Do you know anything about the others?" I inquired.

"Who's-" Dutch looked incredibly confused. Oh I forgot to call him Cerulean. Shit. I hoped he wasn't mad at me if he had wanted to keep us knowing each other a secret-

"I am. Denz and I, we, uh, were friends growing up. Till I moved."

"Oh...Cerulean. Blue. I gotcha," Platinum mused. "Well anyway, you two should have some strong options for a Career pack. Both from Two are powerhouses, you won't have problems there. I've heard that the Four tributes are strong too. Four likes to play theirs up sometimes, though, put in a good word to get them a spot in the big alliance even if they're again, what do I know about Career adequacy?" he laughed a bit. "I'm just an old man," he teased. "Although I'm literally a grandpa now, so I guess I really am old."

"Whoah, I don't remember hearing about that! Congrats!" Platinum Krietzer is a grandpa? Man, even if he didn't show his age, he was getting up there…

"It feels like just yesterday I was in this stupid train car yelling at Os for volunteering, and…" Dutch paused, sipping his coffee slowly and staring at the ground. "Now I'm a father twice over..."

At that moment, high-pitched wailing came from somewhere in the room. Dutch even looked surprised until he whipped out a baby monitor from his back pocket. "Daddy, where are you?! You're not gone, are you? That was just a dream!" the voice of a really young boy sniffled over the monitor.

A look of embarrassment flashed across Dutch's face. "I uh...I'll be right back. I have to go... deal with that." He shot out of his seat and quickly left the train car.

"I didn't know mentors were allowed to bring their kids to work!" Blue said.

"Well… Technically, we're not. But since both Dutch and Marlowe are mentoring this year, they made an… Exception." He definitely had that grandpa twinkle in his eyes. It was actually pretty endearing. "As for me, I usually don't have a choice but to bring my kid to work." He laughed a bit. "I've still got it. I'm old, but not _that_ old, y'know."

"Uh...Dad I need some...backup." Dutch's voice piped up over the baby monitor. I hadn't noticed he had left it behind with Platinum. "We need sheets and a washer for the bed."

"Oh, kids, what can you do," Dasdemonda tisked and went to follow Platinum out the train car, but stopped when an Avox with a tray of food entered. "You. Set that down and come help, you have washing to do." The Avox with short mousy hair and a spray of freckles across their nose flashed me a look of desperation and set down a covered tray of scones and pastries.

It wasn't like I could do anything to help them. The desperation hardened to resignation and they left the train car with their shoulders ever so slightly slumped.

"So, uh…" I racked my mind for a way to start a conversation with Blue. He had just picked up a scone to eat. He must be pretty hungry after the Reaping. "You...do any stargazing lately?"

"Yeah, actually… I still can't picture the bears, though. As hard as I've tried." He laughed a little and started eating. "You?" he asked, mouth, slightly full. He wasn't very good at remembering to not talk with your mouth full. Then again, he never had been too good at that.

"Oh y'know, every couple nights, or every nice night really. I used to go out more but...it's usually to get a daily run in anymore." I couldn't believe he remembered the bears! "Y'know Ursa Major and Minor should still be visible. I'm sure if we try hard enough we could see them from the train, if you want."

"Of course! Hap and Vent were never really all that interested in stargazing. Not the outdoorsy type, I guess." Blue had some of his old spark back. It honestly felt like all the time we hadn't seen each other hadn't passed at all.

I couldn't stop myself from grinning ear to ear. "That's a shame. They don't know what they're missing!" I messed with my left earring. The green droplet of a gemstone nestled in gold was causing my ears to ache. The fidgeting kept me grounded in the moment, since I could barely believe this-all of this-was happening.

"No, they don't! The closest they got to being outside would be sitting on Vent's porch eating freezie pops. Which is great, but isn't… Isn't nearly as awesome as being under the night sky. To me, anyways." He took another bite of scone.

"Freezie pops aren't even healthy for you," I laughed, "but I bet they are nice on a hot day. Still doesn't beat chilling underneath the stars, though."

"Maybe they're not healthy, but they're amazing. Sugary and delicious and cold." Having finished one scone, Blue moved on to another.

"The cold must be nice. I'm not a huge sugar fan though," I said.

Blue frowned. "Huh, I thought you loved chocolate and candy corn back in elementary school and junior high though…"

"I did, but my taste buds changed." I shrugged. "Like how some people come to like coffee, y'know? Except I came to dislike sugar. It gives me a pretty bad stomach ache now, so I have to be careful." I still remembered when milk chocolate tasted like heaven to me. Now it was just saccharine fats, and acidic salts.

"Oh… Well, that sucks." He finished the scone happily. I poured myself a mug of coffee. After all, once Platinum and Dutch returned, it was going to be a long discussion of tactics and strategies. I needed to be alert.

"Eh, it's fine," I made a waving motion. "So tell me! How's Char?"

"Same old Char," he laughed. "Still getting into trouble as always. He's working really hard towards the Games, just like all the kids his age."

"I'm sure he'll make it far! After all, he's your brother," I winked, "so this should help him get farther."

"Yeah, he's not going to stop for anything or anyone. Just like his big bro." All of a sudden, Blue's energy faded, just a little. I guessed he was worried about making it home to Char and his friends…I liked my friends back home but I couldn't talk about them like Blue did. He got this little twinkle in his eye and smiled ever so slightly just thinking about his family and friends. I don't think I did anything like that when I talked about mine, and I don't know how that made me feel...It wasn't something I had the luxury of worrying about at the moment, either.

"Don't worry, you're going to set a great example for all the people supporting you back home," I smiled. "After all, we're the power duo, reunited!" For the first time in a long while, I felt refreshed and re-energized, although the coffee might have had something to do with that.

"Yeah, true." His smile came back, slowly.

The moment was interrupted with the sounds of tiny footsteps and the wild giggles of a little boy, who soon entered the car, wearing nothing but a pair of underwear. He had his mother's olive skin and dull green eyes, along with his father's shaggy, black hair.

"Get back here!" The train car door slammed closed behind Dutch and his son.

"Why? It's much funner here!" the boy giggled with a wild look in his eyes. Coupled with that and his disheveled hair, he certainly looked to be a wild child. He looked up at Blue and I with wide eyes. "Who're you?"

I took a sip of my coffee. "I'm Cadenza! That's Bl-Cerulean!" Blue almost choked on his water.

"Blulean?" The boy giggled. "That's a funny name."

"It's not going to be funny when I'm done with you," Dutch fumed, reaching for the kid who dashed out of the way. It was hard to believe this man won the Hunger Games, yet he couldn't catch his own child. "A little help here, Dad?!"

"I'm the fun Grandpa," Platinum said, chuckling and sitting down on the couch. "That is not my job anymore. I've done enough wrangling kiddoes for a lifetime. You're on your own."

"Grandplat's the fun grandpa!" Scotch chirped, ducking under Blue's chair and under the table. Dutch wore the look of a defeated man, flopping down on a chair, after which Scotch climbed up onto his lap. "I love you Daddy," he said sweetly.

"Mhhmmm," Dutch grumbled, but his features softened considerably and he held his son close to him.

"Dasdemonda will be back in a bit," Platinum began, "So let's get down to business, shall we? Are you two ready?" I exchanged a look with Blue.

"Yep!" we said at the same time.

 _We have so totally got this,_ I thought, _We're the unstoppable power duo, after all!_

 _ **A/N:** Hope you enjoyed the first half of the train rides! This was supposed to have two POV's but we got a lil carried away._ **Let us know what you think in a review, those are always well-appreciated! Thanks to those who are reading and reviewing, hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Also, for those who don't know, Legend's going to study abroad for a semester, so the next update probably won't be for a while. Thank you for your continued support, hope you're enjoying the story so far! :D** _  
_


	10. Train Rides II: Allegro Barbarosso

**Train Rides Pt. 2**

 _Allegro Barbarosso_

-Scout Foster, 17, District 10-

I wished that my first train ride wouldn't have been so somber and miserable.

I always wanted to ride on a train, from the time I was just a little kid. I loved to watch the powerful, speeding machine whiz past and wish that I would be on it. I would always ask my Mom if I could go on the train. After all, I got everything else I wanted, why not that? She always told me that riding on the big train was a Capitolite thing that I would probably never get to experience. But, in true Scout Foster fashion, I never stopped dreaming about it. I knew that I'd somehow get on a train. Someday.

Unfortunately, this was not how I imagined it to go. I imagined it would be fun. I imagined sitting by the window, watching the colors fly past me and realizing just how fast we're going, faster, faster! I would be with my friends or maybe my family, and we'd talk about how amazing technology is. I imagined my parents renting me out a train for my eighteenth birthday. Sierra and Memphis would be there, they'd probably be all coupley. Maybe Jon Armistead would have been there with me. Who knows?

I could imagine all I want, but the reality was that this was it. My first ever train ride. And how was I spending it? Not looking out the window in awe. No, instead I was sitting by the window and watching blurs of green pass and trying not to listen to the small kid crying on the couch. I couldn't even blame them for crying. They were scared. I was scared too.

I didn't imagine my first train ride would be like this, that was for sure. I at least tried to enjoy looking out the window and seeing how fast we were going, but the fact was that it was just impossible in a situation like this.

Ellery, the person who is responsible for us being in this mess, is the first person to greet us after sentencing both of us to death. Any other day, I would have been ecstatic to be visited by Jon fucking Armistead, the hottest person I know. Any other day, I would have been glad to see my friends and siblings and parents in a room just as luxurious as that one was. But not on a reaping day. Not after being reaped.

The Hunger Games was something that should have never happened to someone like me. My family had money. Status. Power. I never took tesserae because I never had to. We raised livestock to be sent away to be butchered and sold. What were the odds that this would happen to me, Scout Foster? I still hadn't comprehended it. Of all people it could have been, it was me. What had I done to deserve this!?

Ellery didn't say anything when they walked into the room. After all, they were walking in to a pitiful sight. The sound of my District partner's sobs. The sight of me looking out the window and feeling totally miserable and numb. What a sorry scene.

Our mentor was the next to enter the room. Through all twenty-seven years of Games, District Ten had only won once. That was really reassuring for our odds. After all, I was sure that there were six volunteers just waiting to kill all of us wee little outer District pigs.

"Welcome to your last week!" Chaz said, his voice booming. Our only Victor, who had won the Fifth Games, was not very good at diffusing the tension. At his exclamation, my District partner only cried even harder. It was really pitiful. I wanted to cry too, but at least I could keep myself under control. "You may as well not spend it cryin' your eyes out! Take some food!"

When I finally looked over at him, he gave my District partner a firm slap on the back.

"Come on now, champ. Get some skin on those bones of yours!" I noticed that in his other hand he was holding an empty glass, which had probably once held alcohol of some sort. My District partner curled up into a tight ball, away from his touch.

"Aw, don't get like that with me. I'm your mentor!" he said. He was tipsy, I could just tell. I had been on the verge of drunk before, after all. My District partner didn't respond. They had stopped crying, but were still obviously hyperventilating.

"Get back up on your feet now, eh?" he slurred, touching my District partners head, who curled up tighter. They were obviously uncomfortable, and weren't doing anything to fight him. Probably because they couldn't. Once I realized that, I knew I had to do something.

"Quit touching them," I said, causing Chaz to look over.

"And… You are?"

"Scout Foster," I said, balling my fists. I wasn't exactly used to standing up to an adult, so I didn't really know what to do.

"So, you were both wearing skirts to the reaping. Which one of you is the male tribute?"

The question made my blood boil as I clenched my fists harder. "I don't see why that matters."

"I'm just curious," he said, laughing.

"It doesn't matter what's in either of our pants. Also, I'm not a girl."

"Oh, let me guess… You're a special snowflake?"

That was it. I couldn't control the anger anymore. It was just too hurtful to hear that come out of the mouth of the person that was supposed to help us survive in an Arena full of tributes.

"Just go," I said, trying not to scream at him.

"Aw, come on-"

"Fucking go! Leave! Get the hell out of here before I start yelling for real!"

Chaz didn't know what to do. After all, he was close to forty and still built like an ox, he could have taken me on if he really wanted to and beaten my sorry ass to a pulp. But I decided I wanted to risk that. I just wanted that toxic man out of the room.

Chaz was silent for a second before he suddenly lunged and slapped me hard across the face, yelling, "Oversensitive bitch!"

I could have at least tried to fight back, either punching rapidly or jumping up on him, but I didn't. I had taken a punch from an adult or two in my life before. And I'd learned that fighting back will only end in more pain.

Chaz stormed out of the room, leaving me alone with my District partner in the car, face still stinging from pain, and having no idea what to do next. The car was filled with silence. Koda was quiet, though. I went back to the window, but found quickly that I didn't want to look out there anymore. The sky had become dark and rain was starting to streak across the window, little droplets racing past, running, running for their lives. Like we would be. I found that watching them wasn't fun like I thought it would be.

Instead, I went to sit next to my District partner.

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly.

They peeked out at me with big, teary brown eyes. "He kept touching me."

"I know," I said quietly. "It's okay, though. He's gone now."

My District partner sat up and rubbed their eyes, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

I instinctively reached up and gently touched my still warm cheek. "I've seen worse." I gave the kid a small smile. "Don't worry about me."

"You've… Seen worse?" They asked quietly.

"I said don't worry. Really. He's gone now."

They wiped their eyes and tried to offer a tiny smile. "Thank you."

"No problem. He was pissing me off."

"Scout, right?"

"Yeah, that's right." I tried to smile but it was hard when I remembered where I was.

"I-I'm Koda." They reached over and took a tissue to blow their nose.

"Koda. Right. I knew that."

Koda looked at me with misty eyes and a smile that almost looked teasing. "I don't think you did," they said.

I let out a small laugh. "You caught me. I didn't."

"I like your skirt," they said, quietly, sniffling a little bit.

"Oh, thanks," I said, smiling. "I like your clip."

Koda looked confused for a moment before reaching up and touching the clip of a little yellow bird. "Oh, this. Right. Thank you. It was a gift."

"It's nice. It brightens up this dreary situation. Somehow."

That brings a real smile to Koda's face. "It does?"

"To me."

"Well… If that little bird can do that, then maybe this one can too!"

"You mean…?"

"Oh, my family calls me Little Bird. Long story."

"Oh. I see." I smile slightly.

"You're nonbinary too, right?"

The question is slightly surprising. "Oh, um… Yeah, that's right. I'm genderfluid, actually."

Koda was surprised. "Oh. I see. That's cool! I'm agender."

"So you like the pronouns…"

"They/them. Thank you."

"Of course kid." I almost reached over to ruffle their hair, but stopped myself. They obviously didn't like to be touched, I could respect that.

"You okay Scout?"

"Yeah." I smiled. "Or, okay as I'm going to be."

Ellery walked in just then, looking shocked. "What happened?!" they squeaked.

"It's fine," I said, as they ran over to look at my face and make sure everything was alright. They had a pack of ice in their hands, which I politely declined. I had to admit, though, it was nice to be cared for like that. I could get used to Capitolites doing everything I asked of them. After all, here there were no parents to keep me from doing whatever I wanted and being whoever I wanted. That was a perk I hadn't realized. And that perk could continue the rest of my life if I won. I would never have to answer to them again! I'd be independent and live in my own house and live by my own rules! If I can make it through the darkness, maybe I can find the light at the end of the tunnel. After all, there is a Victor. As unlikely as it is, there's always a chance that person will be me.

Maybe this is the opportunity to get away that I've been looking for. I just have to keep making the best of it to survive.

I take a deep breath. I just have to keep that mindset until the end.

And I have to be willing to fight for my chance.

~.~.

-Oberyn Thael, 16, District 3-

"I am absolutely soaked!" Rinkah shrieked. "How dare you?! Get some manners!" she abruptly stood and glowered at all of us.

"They're not going to need manners where they're going." Braxton snorted. "Just go, you're of no use shrieking like a banshee."

"It was your own fault for putting your cup like that on a train. You were begging it to dump iced tea all over you," I added dismissively. With an indignant huff, Rinkah finally, finally took the hint and left, to no doubt redo her makeup and find a new dress.

For the last twelve hours, I have endured the constant bickering between our escort, Rinkah, and Braxton Lestrange, the Victor of the 9th Games. If not for the unlimited supply of coffee, I would be completely out of fucks to give. Unfortunately I didn't have a choice. If I wasn't able to butter up at least one mentor, I wouldn't have a lifeline in the arena. That didn't mean I have to be nice to the escort if she was a complete and utter loon (of which she was), at least.

And then there was Hazuki. She had barely exchanged a word with me, instead watching me out of the corner of her eye to size me up. I had a fairly good hunch that she had an inkling that I was a threat and not going to fold. Not that it mattered, because she would fail and I would see to it myself.

"Do you really have to antagonize Rinkah, you two?" Tess, Victor of the 25th Games massaged her temples, clearly dealing with a massive headache. Hazuki could have her. Braxton would be a far better mentor for me.

"Don't tell me you enjoy keeping her around, Tess." Braxton raised an eyebrow, sighed, and reclined in his chair. He put a solid boot on the edge of the table and folded his arms, daring her to tell him she did enjoy the escort's company.

She brushed her bangs out of her face and sighed deeply. "Isn't the reaping recap going to come on soon?"

The remote to the TV being within my grasp, I spun it over to Braxton, who caught it with a flourish. It was a small move to make, but one that indicated he was the one in charge here. And judging by the look he fixed me with dark grey eyes, he got the message I intended to send with the move. Without a word, he flicked it on.

"Good evening to you all! Your hosts for the night are me, Conrad Horowitz!"

"And me, Robin Sarabande!"

As they bantered back and forth, I couldn't help but look the pair over. Anything I could learn about Conrad would certainly be beneficial, considering they were Head Interviewer. Conrad, colorful character that they were, clearly was interested in presenting more feminine than usual for the recaps. They did not seem to do it often, but when they did present feminine, they always looked stunning, I could give them that much. Robin wore a comparatively modest black suit striped in grey with a sky blue tie and pastel purple shirt. I was getting rather sick of pastel purple considering Rinkah's fondness for it.

"Alright, without further ado, let's start the highlight reel!"

Bathed in sunlight, District 1 popped into view from above at first, and then focused on the stage. First the girl, Cadenza Santiago made her bid to volunteer, and she screamed confident Career. She was smiling like she had won the lottery and there was no hesitation in the lean muscles of her arms and the charm she wore just as easily as the heels she strode up to the stage in. But when the boy, Cerulean Holst, strode up to the stage with equal confidence, unlike Cadenza, he faltered when he shook hands with her. His entire body went rigid and the smile on his face froze with something. He knew her. And that could be a very valuable weakness to know.

"These two are looking to be a strong core of the Career pack this year, don't you think, Robin?"

"I agree. They could be quite the duo. But let's see what's waiting for them in District 2, shall we?"

District 2 came into view right on cue. Both tributes were volunteers of course. First came a tall, beaming girl named Latika Hari that also looked to be an issue. Her build wasn't as lean as Cadenza's and she would definitely be a threat as well.

"There's something weird about the boy here isn't there?" Robin asked, his brow furrowed.

Conrad frowned. "Yes, he volunteered as Jack Cherenkov but that isn't his registered name. He nearly gave the Peacekeepers a heart attack. His real name is Ozymandias Cherenkov, but out of respect for the name he gave, we'll call him Jack. I don't think many people want to say a mouthful of a name like that anyway," they laughed.

The red headed wonder sauntered up to the stage as the two hosts discussed why Jack would give Jack as his name. While the prior threes' appearances screamed how much of a threat they were, Jack's appearance alarmingly did not. The lazy smile, slightly messy appearance, and deceptively relaxed smile spoke to a different kind of threat. He would be one to watch indeed.

"They only show me from my bad side," Braxton grumbled as District 3 came into view.

"Me too," Tess pouted. Tess, unlike Braxton, had an enormous scar from temple to chin on the right side of her face, and had a "bad side" much more than Braxton did.

"What do you mean by bad side, Braxton?" Hazuki spoke up for once. She searched his face for some kind of blemish or scar.

"My haircutter screwed up the right side of my hair, don't you see?!" Braxton snapped. "Look!"

Hazuki was clearly not convinced. Braxton's hair was pretty closely cropped, and any asymmetries were difficult to spot, unless you were someone like me.

District 4 came into view, picturesque as always. I had not expected any volunteers but this year I would be unpleasantly surprised. More volunteers meant more trained tributes meant more competition. In place of the boy reaped came another who was scrawnier, pale as death, and had shockingly white hair. He wasn't particularly confident, and when they zoomed in on his face, he wore odd glasses with a smaller lens within each glass panel. I wasn't sure what to make of him. The girl, Valencia Ferriz swaggered up to the stage with a sickening degree of flirtatiousness. Her introducing herself alone caused the escort to blush an uncomfortable shade of red. No doubt she would weaponize that in the time leading up to the Games.

It was raining in District 5. I wondered if that meant District 5 was directly east or west of District 3. It wasn't worth pondering much longer than it took to ask the question though. Rai Raines stormed up to the stage with a scowl never leaving her face. Her face was gaunt and starvation hung over her like a cloud. She probably had some experience in scuffles because of it. The boy, Lars McKinley stalked up to the stage with the same air of intensity. No doubt there would be tension there.

"Keep an eye on those two," Braxton mumbled to me, too low for Hazuki or Tess to hear. "They could be trouble."

The overcast District 6 was also a bit of a surprise. The boy, Felix Hartell was painfully average. I couldn't imagine him making any lasting impact on the Games. But the girl rolled up her sleeves as she came up to the stage, exposing long, ugly, new and old scars. She was too scrawny to have gotten those from street fights. It took balls to show those off though. Not that it would get her too far. Rook Nouvelle screamed bloodbath from head to toe.

Truthfully I wanted nothing more than to leave. The rest of these tributes were more than likely going to die anyway. But I knew I had to stay no matter how bored I was. This was my only chance to see any of them before the Chariots.

District 7 held nothing of interest. Colton Sawyer, a scrawny teenage kid that could barely keep from sniveling and spewing snot everywhere as he stumbled up to the stage and Melanie Shepherd, a wide-eyed 12 year old who wouldn't last more than five minutes in the arena.

Feeling more tired by the second, District 8 came along. A boy who desperately needed a haircut wobbled so badly coming up to the stage that the escort had to help him up. Garrett Oriole seemed like he could cause some issues if he got his act together. The girl, Tessa Armaros, however, seemed meeker than a mouse. But she had a pretty face. And unfortunately, those got people a lot farther in life than it should.

Braxton kicked me from under the table, firmly enough to keep me awake. The exhaustion really was digging its claws into me. I suppose the amount of coffee I've had unrestricted had something to do with that. I had stopped drinking it so that I would not be too energetic to sleep after the recap finished showing, but unfortunately it was not currently working in my favor.

District 9 bloomed into view with a snappy transition effect. The girl reaped first, Nora Baumgartner, sobbed and made a mess on the stage with the amount of tears she was spewing. But the boy however, instead of shaking the escort's hand, gestured for the mic. His eyes were hidden behind cheap sunglasses, but his face only held complete seriousness. "It's Scotty G. Just so you know. Not Scott. Not Scotty. Scotty G."

Well it couldn't be said that outer district tributes didn't have balls, at least.

Hazuki yawned and twirled her hair around her finger, clearly also having issues staying awake. But she stayed fixated through District 10's reaping. I was too focused on her to catch which position was reaped first, and the kid that came to the stage was fairly androgynous so it was impossible to tell. But whatever gender they were, they were almost making as much of a mess as that Nora girl was on stage. At least this Koda kid was keeping it together a little better. The other tribute reaped, without mention of which position was being reaped, of course, was the picture of a deer in headlights. Scout Foster held the look of total and utter shock. I wonder if they'll have that same face when they die, to be honest.

Finally District 11. Sometimes some real threats emerge from there. The boy reaped walked rigidly, but quite honestly he could have been in his mid-twenties and I would have believed it. He had full, ginger facial hair that almost made a mane around his face. The mask of stone that his face was spoke to a tenacity that could be very formidable indeed. Dmitri Cairn would be interesting indeed. Cecily Jarvis however, was another young girl that would start rotting in the ground before day one of the Games was over.

Not that District 12 was one to really pull through with victor material, but since they were the last ones, it was worth watching anyway. Someday they could draw a wildcard into the Games, who knows? First the boy is reaped, Glenn Decim, whose calm, smiling demeanor seemed very much out of place. He didn't look particularly strong, but he was tall and the lack of fear was something to be feared in itself. The wiry girl, Maverick Quinn, looked ready to kill someone though. Those piercing, starving eyes said it all. She was dirt poor, she had had enough, and she could shake things up if she played her cards right.

All in all, an interesting crop. "It could be nasty for you both this year. We'll talk strategy in the morning, get some sleep." Braxton snorted and abruptly left himself. Not needing any more reason to stay awake, I stumbled to my train car.

"Hey," Hazuki started to say as I opened the door to my room. I couldn't care less. I shut the door in her face and collapsed on the bed before I could regret anything.

 ** _A/N: We're back! Hurrah! This story is still going strong and hopefully updates will be coming faster now that Legend is home! Hope you enjoyed the reaping recaps and reminder of the tributes (even though Oberyn is clearly biased against anyone he doesn't consider a threat). Can't wait to see you all next chapter for chariot rides!_**


	11. Chariots: Karneval

_**Chariots: Karneval  
**_

 _-Orpheus Harper, 17, District 4-_

My dream was finally becoming tangible. I could see it and feel it, and even reach out and touch it. I was going into the Games and I was going to fulfill Calliope's wish.

I stepped off the train behind Valencia, to a see of flashes and excited screams. I had seen glimpses of the Capitol on TV but nothing could have prepared me for the sheer amount of people lined up to catch a glimpse of me or Valencia.

My mentor, Reyna, leaned down to my ear to make sure she was heard. "Just keep going and follow the Avoxes, I'll keep my hand on your shoulder, alright?" The sheer sensory overload made the noise and colors all blur together, so I focused on Valencia and Reyna's hand on me and kept moving forward one step at a time until we entered a blindingly white building.

"Mr. Harper! We need to do a quick medical check-up before you see your stylist. Right this way," said a girl who bafflingly resembled a moth, down to the antennae. She wore a luxuriously furry-looking scarf that didn't seem fitting for a doctor's office but sure helped that moth aesthetic.

"We'll see you after, Orpheus, shouldn't be too long." Reyna gave me a short nod and was off on her way with Salvador, Valencia's mentor, already hopping into a conversation with him. I turned and followed moth-girl into the most professional doctor's office I had ever seen. It was certainly a far cry from the homely little apothecary I visited so often at home. The nurse had wing-like protrusions flowing from her hips that brushed both sides of the doorway. I think they left some kind of residue behind, just like real moth wings.

Still a little perturbed moth-girl hadn't introduced herself, I absentmindedly followed her instructions to take my height, weight, blood pressure, and then answer questions about my medical history.

"How long have you had that eye condition?" she turned to me with her antenna furrowing down with her brow.

"Um, I think about five years ago? It just started happening with one of my sickly periods." the absolute silence stood out, as she completely froze, not typing into her computer nor saying a word. "I thought it was just something with being albino," I offered nervously, "That's what my apoth-...doctor said back home."

"Well the doctor will be in to see you shortly! I'm sure it's fine, don't worry," she laughed nervously. She darted out before I could ask her anything else.

A quick knock and in came the most normal looking person I'd ever seen from the capitol. "Hello, Orpheus! I'm Dr. Strix!" She had brown hair, pulled back into a bun, and a lab coat over a blue blouse and dress pants. The complete lack of bombastic, eye-assaulting color and alien style was baffling in itself. I think she must have noticed my jaw touching the floor because she laughed and said, "Do I really look that surprising? A medical workspace is no place for cosmetic luxuries. It's a hazard you know!"

"That makes sense," I laughed. "U-um so is everything okay with me?" She stared intently at my medical chart for a brief second and frowned.

"I'm really surprised you bounced back from that plague sweeping your district three years ago...I wish I had the time to ask you to volunteer for research trials for a vaccine for that but you don't have much," she sighed wistfully, "Certainly not with the Games fast approaching-"

"You want to work on a vaccine?" I blurted out. She looked taken aback but recovered quickly.

"Well...I'd like to, but the interest and money just isn't there," Dr. Strix grumbled. "People's priorities here aren't what they should be, that's for sure."

I fell silent. She kept talking, unperturbed. "I want to put you through some tests to be absolutely sure you're fine before the Games. It's going to take up a lot of your limited spare time, I'm sorry. But I want to be absolutely sure the nystagmus you have isn't a symptom of a bigger problem."

"The what I have?" I felt anxiety rooting in my stomach.

"Oh it's your eye condition. Which, by the way, I'd like to get you some contacts. They'll work much better for you than glasses. I originally was assigned to you to evaluate your candidacy for surgery to fix that, but I don't want to cause you more problems than you already have. So we'll be running some tests, okay?" I nodded. Her warm rationality balmed any worries I had about the situation. "But, you've barely got extra time today so off you go, Orpheus! I'll be rooting for you at chariots, alright?" Dr. Strix smiled reassuringly. And before I knew it I was being swept away by moth-girl again and back to Reyna.

"How'd it go?" she asked as we walked across a catwalk to another building. She rubbed the smooth silver band on her left hand. She got engaged just a year ago, it had been all over the news, of course.

"Um, okay I think. Dr. Strix wants to run some tests before doing any kind of eye surgery on me," I reported. I tried not to think about the implications of what more tests could mean and focus on just today; on what was at hand.

Reyna nodded. "That's good. I was worried they were gonna turn up something weird since you're albino. Which by the way, the people here are gonna eat up. A District citizen, with white hair and pale eyes? You're already halfway there to the picture of ' _fashion'_ here," she snickered. I was really glad I got Reyna as my mentor. She's definitely a more recent one, having won the 23rd Games, and her easygoing down-to-earth nature made her really easy to talk to. She made me feel like I had a chance. _For Calliope._

We stopped suddenly and entered a room with people wearing enough colors to make up for the room's lack thereof.

"Oh look at you! They didn't tell us about this beautiful white hair!" a guy with a purple topknot and deep blue sparkly eyeshadow and lipstick exclaimed, turning gold cat's eyes towards me. "I'm one of your stylists, Mako. Our head stylist will be here shortly, she's running late. But in the meantime, let's get you freshened up!"

"I'll be leaving," Reyna turned and waved without looking behind her. Suppressing a laugh, she called back, "Good luck, Orpheus!" I had heard whispered stories of stylist sessions being worse than the Games themselves and could only hope it was only exaggeration.

"We're going to be starting with a full-body wax," Mako smiled with a terrifying glee. Wait…

"My body hair is completely white, w-why is that necessary," I cried, my voice cracking embarrassingly.

Mako tsk'ed at me. "It's just protocol, buddy. Now, hold still…"

Instead of zoning out and trying to forget the searing pain, I tried to meditate and focus, to remember my purpose for being here.

" _Calli, why do you have to go train every night? Can't you take a break?" I whined. "One night won't kill you!" She stopped on the front steps of our porch and spun around. The cool salty wind whipped past us; a warning of storms on the way._

" _I could, but I won't be learning a completely unorthodox method of sword combat that way! I've gotta shock those District 1 and 2 careers out of their skins, y'know," she winked. "They'll shit themselves when I clock them holding a sword by the blade!"_

 _As exciting as that sounded, I couldn't muster the enthusiasm like normal. It seemed odd to think, but I really missed my sister. This alone was the most we had spoken in at least two weeks. The carefree grin on Calli's face faded. "Hey," she said quietly, "I'm sorry. It's not like I'm close to the trainers choosing a volunteer, there's no reason to go at it as hard as I have."_

" _I understand, Calli. You want to be the be the best so you can volunteer, I get it, but…" I struggled to say the words that came to mind, "I miss spending time with you. Even if it isn't cool to spend time with my big sis anymore." Calli's shoulders sagged and the dark circles under her eyes and the wan, sickly pallor to her face stood out even more._

" _I'm so sorry Orpheus...I...I think a night off would be nice." she smiled weakly. The transformation from how strong she had seemed seconds ago to how bone-deep exhausted and frail she appeared now was terrifying. I could only hope something like that wouldn't happen to her in the Games. God I could only hope, there was nothing I could do to help her but try to convince her to rest when she could._

 _Calli..._

"Alright, you're ready to go! Lycaenidae will be here any minute now," Mako cracked his knuckles expectantly looking at the door. As if on cue, it opened and moth girl had returned.

"Was something wrong with what Dr. Strix said to me? Do I need to get a test done right away?" I asked, starting to panic.

"No, I'm actually your stylist. Though it is pretty funny I had to take you to the doctor while on my second job I have to say," she laughed. "I never properly introduced myself. Call me Lycaen."

"Okay," I promptly sagged in relief. But it didn't last too long before dread returned. "What...what's the plan for our outfits?"

"Be glad there aren't nets involved, Miss Voleur's special request she sent all the stylists should keep anyone from looking stupid tonight," Lycaen circled around me, gauging my build and features. "That being said...you and Valencia are going to be fish."

"But I thought you said no one is going to look stupid tonight," I protested in a small voice, hoping deep down that Lycaen had something up her sleeve.

She showed me what she came up with and I had to say, I was not going to look stupid after all. If that was the standard for tonight, the chariots ceremony tonight would be far from a joke, that's for certain.

 _-Conrad Horowitz - Capitol-_

I cracked each of my knuckles as the final preparations were being made.

"I hate that sound, you know," Robin grumbled next to me. He slipped his sweater off and turned to a stylist to touch up his makeup.

"I crack my knuckles before every time I'm on the air, you would think you would be used to it by now," I answered mildly. Truth be told, I was excited to see what the stylists were going to come up with under Ariettey's orders. No dumb outfits this year, nothing avant garde, just something classy. Just like her, in a way.

"Your dress looks nice though, Horowitz. Never imagined you could make a sweetheart neckline work," Robin commented.

"I'm not sure whether to take the compliment or be offended, Sarabande," I laughed dryly. "You ready for this?"

"I'm certainly interested in how that special request is going to affect what we see out there," he admitted, shuffling his notes into a neat pile in front of him. "I hope Arrietty knows what she's doing."

I was the only one outside the Gamemaker Headquarters who knew what was down the pipeline. I had to be careful not to give away that I had that knowledge. "Oh, I think she does. I've know Ari long enough to believe in her."

"Starting in 10 seconds, everyone! Be ready!" a director called from behind the cameras, too short to be seen.

Ten seconds were just long enough to take two deep breaths. I closed my eyes and when I opened them, we were rolling.

"Hello everyone, welcome to the Chariots Ceremony coverage! I'm your host and Head Interviewer, Conrad Horowitz, and this is-"

"Not going to let me introduce myself, Horowitz? How rude," Robin feigned looking aghast, the exchange completely planned in advance. "I'm Robin Sarabande and I'm your Announcer for this year's 27th annual Hunger Games!"

"We'd best direct our attention to the chariots, they're just starting to move!" On cue the light above the cameras indicating we were on the air dimmed. We were no longer on camera. Robin visibly relaxed.

"District 1 is looking beautiful this year, don't you think?" I asked Robin. The silver and gold-lined chariot led by a beautiful pair of white horses held two careers sparkling just like the gemstones of their district. The girl's blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder and a pink gold flower tucked behind the ear opposite of it was stunning to say the least. Her aquamarine colored dress was a mermaid style that darkened towards the hem. "That golden embroidery really makes Cadenza shine, don't you think?"

"I think Cerulean looks just as bright, look at his hair!" Robin exclaimed. It was streaked with silver, which brought out the silver of his tie. His suit was that purple-blue shade that he was named for. He smiled amicably at the throng of people watching and his eyes found a camera. The crowd went nuts.

"Ah, but here comes District 2, let's see what they have to show, shall we?" I smoothly asked to transition to the next chariot. Pulled by two black horses was a granite chariot shining like graphite. The boy was tall this year, and sharp didn't begin to cut it. The outfit was clearly inspired by the decorative Peacekeeper's uniform, a dark grey lined with black and white. The white lines down his legs were straight lines. I half expected the kid to salute. Billowing out behind him was a granite-colored cape emblazoned with the emblem of the Capitol in pure gold.

"Our boy from District 2 this year is quite the odd story, isn't he?" I asked, another planned exchange. Robin nodded.

"Though at the Reapings he called himself Jack when he volunteered, that is not his real name. I wonder if we'll get the story on that?" my co-host replied. Jack raised a white gloved hand and did a two fingered wave at the audience. That single sharp movement brought more cheer from the crowds than District 1 did combined.

"I certainly plan to ask about that at the Interviews," I answered with a chuckle. But my attention was on his district partner now. Not to be outdone, she raised her fake sword and scales in hand to rally the crowds she faced on the opposite side of the road. The creamy marble dress, the blindfold-it was obvious she was to look the spitting image of Lady Justice. She evoked quite the cheer from crowds on her side as well. "You know, with the crowd this riled up and we're only two districts in, the Careers are going to be quite a force to be reckoned with this year!"

"Oh, for sure," Robin agreed. "I'm excited to see Miss Latika in action myself. But onward to District 3!" Right on cue, the Chariot pulled into view. The shine on the girl's dark silver, form-fitting floor-length dress easily made wires come to mind. Her dark hair was in an elegant updo,and a single braid fell to her shoulder. Clasped at the base of her throat was a translucent shawl. She smiled at the crowd. She was the one drawing attention,after all. The boy was in a dark silver dress shirt with short sleeves and dark pants. His tie appeared to be black, until all of a sudden both her shawl and his tie were lit with moving, gently pulsating light, much like a circuit board. The crowd collectively ooh'd in admiration.

"Robin, I think I need to look into getting one of those shawls myself. Just look at it!" I laughed.

"I dunno, I'm pretty sure Hazuki down there is wearing it better than you could," he retorted good-naturedly. He ran a hand through his slicked back, currently green hair. "What do you think of Oberyn down there? He's just staring and scowling."

"If he's trying to intimidate, it's working," I quipped, "I am quite intimidated."

"Well," Robin scoffed, "It doesn't really take much to intimidate you, Horowitz." I gasped in mock horror.

"How dare you! Moving on," I sniffed, "Let's take a look at District 4!" Their girl was just as stunning as the other careers this year. The halter style highlighted her curves, and the contrast between the bright silvery fabric and her caramel colored skin worked in her benefit. The dress style's deep V-cut also worked in her favor, if the crowd's response was any indicator. She had a silver-streaked, satin scarf swept over her shoulder, and a delicate fin behind each ear. Her district partner in contrast, was fairly simply dressed. He wore a navy vest striped with silver with navy pants. Aside from the shock of white hair, sunglasses he wore, and fake sword he held, his outfit was dwarfed by hers. "I believe they're supposed to be fish, what do you think, Robin?"

"Ah, that would explain the sword," he nodded in understanding, "A swordfish! I don't know what kind of fish Valencia is, but she's certainly the fairer fish."

"Orpheus has a coolness about him though! Look how calm he is, waving to the crowds," I said, not realizing I was pointing despite not being on camera. Oops. Robin's smug look meant he definitely saw that, too.

"But what's that off in the distance?" Robin asked, thankfully skipping the chance to poke fun at me on national television. "It's so bright it could be another sun!"

"I believe...that's Rai Raines of District 5," I answered, still in disbelief myself. You could barely look at her from afar. As she came closer, it was easier to make out the details. She and her district partner both wore sunglasses to protect their vision. The mid-thigh length dress was a cute, spunky cut. But it glowed yellow with the brightness of lightning. Oh, lightning! "I also believe that she's supposed to be the lightning to Lars's lightning rod!"

"What a creative way to tie in District 5's industry," Robin commented with admiration. Lars's outfit was dull by comparison, a black tux with a dark grey dress shirt underneath. But for sake of the theme, the two worked well together.

Before long, District 6 was coming into view. The pair looked pretty happy to be there for outer district tributes, and their identical matching outfits were adorable. Black satin vests, long-sleeved white dress shirts and gloves, and stout little hats-they were train conductors!

"If these two were the conductors of the train for my daily commute, I would be ecstatic," I remarked.

"Maybe Rook, but Felix is a little young to be conducting trains, don't you think?" my co-host chuckled.

"Maybe someday he'll get to, who knows," I shrugged. "Onward to District 7!" The girl, Melanie, looked a little nervous but put on a smile for the crowds. Her dress was a snug fit with horizontal lines to make it look like stained cherrywood. The boy, however, could not look more nervous. He was in a mahogany-stained vest that honestly appeared to be made of the commodity so prized from District 7. A white dress shirt was rolled to his elbows. It was a simple, sharp combination that would have inspired confidence in just about anyone. But why not him? I made a mental note to keep it in mind.

Robin clearly noticed as well. "Colton down there looks like he's being forced to eat one of those scorpions-in-a-lollipop. How could he make such a face in our beautiful Capitol? It can't be that mortifying to be down there!"

"Calm down, Robin, I'm pretty sure you made a face like that when Claudia got you to ride the Canary's Coalmine at Panemland," I said, not without amusement. "Or were those pictures she sent me not of you?"

"D-don't bring her into this," he hissed. "Or those pictures. L-let's look at District 8!" As the chariot drew near, the dun horses moving at an easy trot, the pair came into view. The boy wore tweed pants and a tweed jacket over a white collared shirt, but the shirt was sprayed in blues, greens, and purples in a splattering of dye. Garrett looked thrilled to be there, unable to soak in enough of his surroundings. Tessa wore a flannel patchwork quilt over her shoulders like a shawl. It had flaws, but they were endearing flaws integral to it, like Panemite folk art. Her dress was high waisted and a quilted pattern as well. The bodice and arms of the dress were a light, white, flowing cotton. She was definitely the warmest tribute tonight. Her hair was done up with two bangles artlessly falling to frame her face. And of course, Tessa's reservedness made the crowd interested in a different way than Garrett's did.

"Just look at them! They could be in Panem's next fashion show," I praised the designs of both. The restrictions Ari gave them really forced the stylists to create something fresh and new, and it paid off thus far. "I'll have to ask about that quiltwork. Do you know how long those used to take to make in the old days? Hundreds of hours!"

"It's unbelievable how far technology has come," Robin said, shaking his head. "What does District 9 have in store for us?"

The pair from Nine were quite young, and short, this year. Nora, the girl, had a beige jumper on, and a blue bucket hat. Streaming from the hat was a plume that looked just like a stalk of wheat. And she had black and white striped knee-socks that made her cute as a button to behold. Her district partner, however, was a different story. He regarded the crowd with cold aloofness from behind completely unnecessary sunglasses. His shirt looked like a plain white t-shirt at first, but as the chariot came closer you could see it was a black shirt crusted in salt. His white khaki shorts completed the ensemble. Scott-erm, Scotty G. was going to be a character, all right.

The District 10 chariot was riding so close to Nine's that we didn't have time to fit a few quips in before it rode up.

"You know, no one is certain which District 10 tribute is our male and female," Robin began, "Which I was going to investigate-"

"But I stopped you, because there's no need to figure that out. They're our District 10 tributes! And look how happy they are to be here!" I finished for Robin.

Scout was dressed in full western equestrian gear, and looked quite cheery for the crowds. This late in the ceremony, the crowd ate it up. Koda wore a zipped up light grey vest over a white short sleeved dress shirt. At that moment Koda chose to draw the vest's hood up over their head to show the bunny ears attached to it. Their dark grey pants had a little bunny tail attached.

District 11 rode up quickly. After all, the chariots were spaced so the earlier career districts had more time in between them and the outer district tributes had less time in between them. The careers tended to be crowd favorites after all. The hulking enormous male tribute this year was dressed in an almost gaudy orange tux, brown undershirt, and brown pants with a green tie. The girl this year, dwarfed by Dmitri, wore a cute yellow summer dress accented with a warm brown scarf.

"You're going to have to help me out with these two, Robin," I confessed, unable to ascertain what abstract thing the Eleven tributes were themed after.

"Dmitri is a pumpkin and Cecily is a squash, easy," he snorted. "You sure you're cut out for this?"

"Give me a break," I grumbled. "We've got one last chariot, folks!" District 12's chariot came cruising along, and the outfits were really quite nice. Maverick was in a black cocktail party dress with an inner part with a short hem at mid-thigh length, and an outer, flowing darker nylon part draping down to her knees. The outer part was filled with something that glittered like coal. She had a confidence that went beyond her petite build. Glenn was in a dark grey vest with a white long sleeved dress shirt rolled to ¾ length sleeves. His bowtie was checkered red and black, and the top hat he wore spoke to the old wealthy families of District 12.

Before we could say anything, the first glitch in the plan of the Games this year sprung up.

The cameras jumped towards the end of the road, where the chariots were supposed to gather in a cul-de-sac in front of the Presidential Mansion. None of the Chariots were there yet, but District 1 was closing in.

"What in the hell is…?" Robin muttered under his breath. I was stunned and could barely watch what was happening. I could only hope that none of our tributes were going to be shot before the Games even started.

 _-Lars McKinley, 18, District 5-_

There were too many thoughts in my head to count. They were still there, all of them happening so quickly I could never really figure out what they meant. I could think them, but it was far too much to process.

 _Dammit Lars, pull it together,_ I chided myself. _You're in control. You can handle this. You're just going to win the Games. But if you keep being a fucking weakling, you're never going to win, you're going to die, die, die, die, like a fucking weakling, then all your brothers and your mother will laugh and feel satisfied, they'll be glad you're gone._

I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. I couldn't let anything show. I couldn't let anyone know what I was thinking, or else they would know me. Nobody can know me in the Games. I wasn't here to make friends.

I had been in denial the entire train ride here. I had met a Capitolite that herded me and Rai around like sheep. My oldest brother came to apologize because he knew I would likely be coming back in a coffin. _Fuck him, fuck anyone who thinks I'm going to die here. I'm going to show them once and for all that I am not a runt or a weakling, I am strong! I am strong and I am going to win! I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me dead. Hell no,_ I thought, keeping my fists clenched tightly. I just couldn't help but get angry thinking about it. I spent most of my time angry, it seemed.

Up until this point, this all felt like some kind of crazy dream. Surely something would go wacky soon and I would wake up to my mother's voice and some breakfast for reaping day. That was what I told myself. Now I realized how wrong I was. This was reality. I was really here, and I was really in danger.

Great. It only took being dressed up like a fucking pole, ready to be displayed in front of the entire nation looking fucking ridiculous, like a dress-up doll or some kind of fucking trophy: to realize that I was in real fucking danger. Not that I wasn't always in real danger back home, but this was different. This was a place where the others' reputation wouldn't decline if my injuries showed.

Now, as I climbed up in the chariot next to my fucking blinding District partner, I realized that I had two choices: either I could wither away and give up, or I could step up and be the tribute everyone out there wanted to see. Maybe I had no one back home waiting for me. Maybe everyone in the nation, including (and especially) my own damn family wanted me to die. But I was fighting for something more important than them: me. I had always wanted to be in control of my own destiny, but crippled out of fear. I never acted because I was afraid I was too young, too inexperienced, too afraid of being beat down. Now, though, I could control my own fate. I could get out of here, and then I would be set: enough money to live, a house to get away from everyone. I would finally be able to stand alone, Lars McKinley, away from everyone who had ever done me wrong.

The Games were more than a little intimidating, but as our chariot lurched forward, I was actually smiling a little. I liked the sound of that.

I tried to see Rai's face, to try and gauge how she was feeling, but her outfit was so goddamn bright I couldn't even see her face. Even with sunglasses, it was unbearably bright. I hated being from this stupid District, with the same stupid light outfits every year. At least this was something different. I had seen District Five tributes covered in lightbulbs that were so tacky they looked like bubble wrap. I didn't appreciate being dressed up, but at least I was in a nice suit.

Unfortunately, next to the fucking shooting star beside me, not many people were going to give a damn about me. And I certainly wasn't going to smile and wave to the crowd like a fucking idiot. I wasn't here to charm them. I was here to prove to them that I was a fucking Victor.

The noise was deafening. It was probably the loudest thing I'd ever heard in my entire life. If I wasn't being watched by the entire nation, waiting for me to fuck up, I would have covered my ears and yelled at them all to shut the hell up. But I knew that I couldn't. I thought about my brothers, each of them, smirking victoriously after winning over me. Casimir, laughing after holding me down and groping me. God, I wouldn't let them win. I'm going to wipe those smirks right off of every single one of their stupid faces. I'm not going to fuck this up.

We rolled forward, and I could barely see the crowd. Then again, I didn't look for them. I stared straight ahead, just able to see the back of the District Four chariot. The sunglasses kept the crowd from seeing the seriousness and fire in my eyes, but I stood tall, trying to appear tough. I was going to prove them all the fuck wrong. The chariot stopped and I kept my balance. I wasn't about to look like a klutz in front of everyone. They weren't going to count me out.

I squinted up at the balcony, trying to see the President, but I saw nothing. Instead, the crowd started to gasp and yelp. The President didn't start talking before there was a wild laugh that seemed to boom across the tense and empty square. There was a clamouring of hooves on the ground that made the crowd exclaim. I had no idea what was happening, but I did my best to remain looking cool and tough. Nothing was going to catch me off guard. I was going to prove that I could handle anything.

I was really caught off guard when the giant-ass black horse came galloping in front of our chariot. On its back- its bare back, nonetheless- was the boy from District Two, laughing and whooping like he was having the time of his life. He had volunteered for this, so he probably was.

Of course he was smirking as he turned around and looped past, just so that all the rest of us would see him on top of the fucking world. _God I wish he would be on top of me._ I watched the horse tear away, looping up towards the Presidential Mansion. His smirk stuck in my mind, though. He was so smug. He knew he was causing a giant-ass disruption. He knew what he was doing, but dammit, he was going to do it anyways. He was going to make the world stop for him.

I was only admiring him because I was jealous, that was all. I was just wishing I could be that confident, like that, taking control of an event in the Hunger Games without a single apology. I wish I had balls like him. He was so hot. Brave, he was so brave! He was so brave. So brash. Confident. God, he was smug. He was a ham. He was winning over the crowds because he was showing them he was a wildcard. Nobody would take the spotlight from him. I was so jealous. And so aroused. No, not aroused, just impressed. Impressed that he would do that. It was ballsy. It was brave. It was everything I'd ever wanted to be. I wanted to be around that guy, and learn from him.

The President was talking, seeing as Jack had returned his horse to its chariot and the crowd had gone nuts, but I was paying no attention to the words he was saying. After the show that had just happened, nobody was. _God, Lars, don't be stupid._ _He's from District Two, he was trained to kill people from shit Districts like you. Allying with that guy is a death wish._

I still didn't stop thinking about him as the horses turned around, and the crowd was subdued due to shock, and using up all their voices screaming for the Career who had, for some reason, chosen to go bareback riding on a horse. I was impressed. Rai's outfit didn't shine so bright now.

The chariots pulled in and stopped. Rai climbed out and I followed.

"I'm going to bed," she grumbled, hanging her head and looking uncomfortable at all the tributes staring at her as she went. It was hard to not look up with a fucking blazing comet tearing past you. I just thankfully took off my sunglasses. It didn't take long to adjust to the light. From there, I scoped out the other tributes. All of them were buzzing, trying to figure out how the boy from Two managed to hijack a horse, how he even knew how to ride it, let alone bareback, and if he would be punished for disrupting the Capitol like that.

Looking at all the outer District tributes that had stuck around to talk to each other, I wasn't very impressed. Each and everyone of them had an obvious drawback that ruled out allying with them. They were either too small and young, too happy and smiley, or sticking close to one of the tributes that was. I wasn't really in the mood to talk to any of those chipper bastards. They were trying to cope by making friends, and I wasn't here for that.

I was about to go to bed, until my eyes fell on the six tributes that would form the Career alliance. The boy from Two was there, of course, it was hard for my eyes to not be drawn to him after what he did. And because of his red hair. And because of his muscles. He was smirking unapologetically at his District partner, who looked pissed. The District One tributes were both laughing, grinning, probably proud of their prospective ally. The Four tributes seemed more awkward than the rest, but were still smiling. Obviously, they were the cream of the crop, and they all knew it. They were the strongest tributes there, and like myself, they were there to win.

Something in my head said, _talk to them_. After all, what would shock my brothers more than seeing me allied with the strongest tributes in the Games? The boy from Two seemed to look at me as he rode past, maybe that was a good sign. Maybe he was interested. Or maybe he was just sizing me up. Maybe he was just trying to establish his dominance over me and everyone else. Not in the perverted way (sadly). He was hard to decode.

I would love to prove my brothers wrong. They always called me weak and beat me into submission, to feed some misplaced jealousy that I got all the love from our mother. Love that I never even wanted. Love that is taken away just as quickly as it is given. If they saw me being apart of the strongest alliance in the Games, maybe they would think twice about me. _Go talk to them. Prove them wrong. Show them that you are strong._

Then again, there were some obvious cautions to take. First of all, they probably wouldn't even entertain the idea of me, a boy from District Five, joining their pack. I hadn't trained with weapons, though I had trained with weights and cardio. I couldn't convince them of my skill here. I didn't look very impressive, after all. Compared to them, I was the least impressive. I would be the runt of the Careers, and I would risk being a scapegoat if something went wrong. Not to mention how embarrassing it would be to be rejected by them here, in front of everyone.

 _Do as the District Two boy did. Take a risk. Do something outrageous. Do it. Talk to them. Right now!_ I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat. It was a big risk. I clenched my fists, steeled myself, and started walking towards them.

The closer I got, the more I started to doubt myself, though. The boy from Two himself locked eyes with me and raised his eyebrows. The second his District partner glanced over, I changed my course to head straight to the elevator, which would take me back up to my floor. I just couldn't do it. The fear of humiliation was just too much for me. I had to be cautious. I had to make good decisions.

I knew I was pulling the same damn shit that I always had. The same damn shit I had just said I was going to stop pulling. But I couldn't overcome the fear that consumed me. I had no courage, and I hated it, but I had no source. I had spent so long being afraid that I'd just learned how to cope with it and keep going. Now was no exception.

The entire time I showered and prepared for bed, I couldn't stop thinking about his face as he galloped fast. He was so free. He was so brave. He was so… He was so… Confident. I couldn't stop thinking about him. How much I wished that just a little of that could rub off on me. I hated that I couldn't be brave. I hated that I couldn't escape this fear that was consuming me. I hated being a coward, but I just couldn't be brave.

His face never left my mind, even after I had climbed to bed and closed my eyes. I wished I could smile like that. I wished I could laugh like that. The more I thought about him, the more I realized how much I needed to learn from him.

As I saw him bouncing his eyebrows at me, I realized that if I wanted to control my own destiny, I would have to jump on a bare horse. Just like he did.

 _ **A/N: If you're still reading this we thank you from the bottom of our hearts and hope thirsty Lars is suitable reparation for the long droughts between updates XD Reviews are always appreciated and good motivators.**_

 _ **See you next time around! (We would say soon but don't want to be too hopeful here)**_


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